


Across Time

by elizabethdell



Series: The Adventures of Rathe [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/F, Feelings, Fluff, Historical References, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethdell/pseuds/elizabethdell
Summary: Season 2 1/2 LOT, temporal loop occurring between seasons 2 and 3 focused on Sara and her need for a love life. Some Supergirl crossovers.My name is Rathe Adler. I am a half-human, half-Empathia alien from Earth-38. I worked side by side with Supergirl at the DEO where I fell in love with her sister, Alex Danvers. After dying in my universe, I was granted a second chance at life, so long as I never return to my home world. Now, live on Earth-1, using my empathic skills to help identify and correct anomalies in the timeline. I’m no hero. But maybe someday, I can be a Legend.For more on Rathe see her start with Beyond Words; or continuation with Earth 99.





	1. Time Warp

“Cut to the chase, Barry,” said Sara with exasperation. “Can you help us or not?” Sara Lance brushed her sandy blonde hair back in frustration. Ever since discovering the anomalies they’d created in time the news just got worse. Every time period they had visited so far in their reconnaissance showed signs of impact. And not small ones that required Nate’s historical expertise either. No, these were glaring omissions or additions that even Sara, who passed high school World History by the skin of her teeth could see. It was an unmitigated disaster and Sara needed all the help she could get. The messages sent to present day Central City and Star City had been the team’s Hail Mary. And it seemed it might pay off.

The comm crackled. Interference was to be expected when communicating across both time and space, but she had no patience for standard issues today.

“Can you repeat that?” Sara asked. More static.

“…alien with…”

“Screw this,” she said under her breath. “We’re coming to you. Gideon, take us to present time, Central City,” Sara called. Somewhat confusingly present time was a moving target for the group. From the moment they entered the time ship, their personal timeline continued at a standard rate. It could get fairly disorienting but fortunately Gideon, the ship’s supercomputer, automatically kept tabs on what exactly constituted the “present” time.

“Returning to Central City, the year 2017,” Gideon responded. The time ship shuddered as it slipped into the time stream. The usual sense of disorientation descended briefly. After so much time travel Sara was nearly immune to the effects. Her frustration must be amplifying her symptoms. They exited the time stream quickly, hoovering just over the open field adjacent to STAR Labs. Slowly Sara guided the Waverider to the ground.

“Guys,” Sara yelled. “I’m going to meet a potential new team member. A little help?”

Amaya, Nate, and Ray popped out from the library. Four out of seven wasn’t bad. Good enough for a vote if they were bringing someone new aboard.

The ramp of the Waverider opened, revealing a world that felt strangely artificial after traveling through time, as though it were a museum replica of a time Sara knew instead of an actual time period that existed. The STAR Labs crew waited. Sara could immediately identify the new member. From the very little she’d gathered it was an alien, and the lithe creature standing next to Barry had a decidedly alienish aspect, although physically appearing human. Sara studied the alien with open curiosity.

She was pale, in more a delicate than sickly manner, with short auburn hair that stood on end in a kind of hybrid pompadour and spiked look. Her form-fitting dark gray clothes, stained with blood, indicated recent wounds to the chest and gut. Despite that, she showed no signs of injury, moving with a natural grace. She raked her long fingers through her hair, making it stand on end. The alien fixed her gaze directly on Sara, efficiently marking her as the leader of this crew. Her irises glowed with a kind of silver light, extremely pale, almost invisible, as if she had the moon for eyes. She held Sara’s gaze intently, unblinking. Sara looked away, swallowing her discomfort.

“Barry,” she said.

“Captain Lance,” Barry Allen replied with a smile. Her gestured to the alien. “This is Rathe. She’s from Supergirl’s earth. Rathe has the ability to sense auras. She may be able to help identify when things are off.”

Sara smirked. It was the fixing that had proven more difficult. She crossed her arms, taking care to avoid looking directly into the alien’s unnerving eyes.

“How does that work? No super-strength Supergirl then?”

“No,” said Rathe in a low voice that Sara felt more than heard. “Supergirl is Kryptonian. I’m Empathia. Well, half-Empathia, half-human.”

“How do you tell if things are out of place?”

“I sense emotional and energetic states of people and objects. Things…match. Or maybe they don’t. They speak to me. It’s difficult to explain,” the alien concluded.

“That seems useful,” said Nate. “Hi,” he said extending a hand, “Nate Heywood, ship historian and man of steel.”

Rathe shot him a confused look. Nate’s hand daggled in the air.

“Oh right…” he said realizing his mistake. “No, not _that_ man of steel. I…I steel up. In battle. It’s a thing. Very cool, I promise.”

“Can you fight?” interrupted Sara.

“I’ve been training. Was training with the DEO,” said Rathe. “Basic hand-to-hand combat.”

“What happened there,” Sara asked indicating to the bloodied clothes.

Rathe glanced down in surprise as if noticing the blood on her clothes for the first time. “I…There was an incident. It’s fine now.”

“Hey we’ve all taken a hit or two, haven’t we,” said Ray cheerfully. “You’ll fit right in. Do you have questions for us?”

The alien considered, moon eyes flickering between the Legends.

“What’s wrong?” she asked slowly.

“Ahhh,” said Ray. “We kind of busted time…”

“Ray shut up,” said Sara. Ray snapped his mouth closed. “Due to a series of events, some pieces of history…”

“Got put in a blender,” muttered Nate. Sara glared.

Nate and Ray smiled at the alien. They seemed ready to invite her onboard.

“Amaya?” asked Sara, deciding maybe not answering the question would be the best course of action.

“Can we get a demo of your ability?” asked Amaya. Sara smiled and nodded. She loved how Amaya always cut straight through the bullshit.

“Who’d like to volunteer?” asked Rathe, eyes glowing brighter.

“Oh, me!” said Ray.

“I’ll do it,” said Sara, stepping in front of Ray. “What do I need to do?”

“Absolutely nothing,” said Rathe, still not blinking.

Sara stood, not wanting to break in their stare-down, overcome by a sense that she needed to demonstrate to this creature that she was in charge. Cold crept up her leg. It spilled into her belly and through her rib cage, clutching tight around her heart. Overwhelming panic, water rising and being unable to move. Sara tried to gasp but she couldn’t move. The invisible cement crept higher, locking in the terrifying sensation. How much time had passed? It felt like hours but no one moved. Sara knew this feeling. It was the one that haunted her in the night. The only memory she had of death, and of rising again from the Lazarus Pit. The cold, choking barrier vanished suddenly. Sara took several steps back.

“What was that?” Sara couldn’t cover the tremor in her voice.

“That’s what I do in a fight,” Rathe said softly. “I sense and control. I find the weak spot and…press.”

“What happened?” asked Amaya.

Sara shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. “Seems effective,” she managed.

“Great,” said Amaya. “She has my vote.” That was three. Sara shivered in the warm day.

“Looks like you passed,” she said. “Welcome aboard the Waverider.”

*

Amaya showed Rathe to her cabin and the location of the fabrication chamber.

“I was a stowaway,” Amaya confided with a laugh. “So I know all about showing up with nothing more than the clothes on your back. Fortunately, the technology on this ship can make you just about anything you can imagine.”

“Thanks,” said Rathe, as she looked about the empty room.

Amaya lingered in the door. “Is it rude for me to ask how your gift works?”

“Not at all.” Rathe eyed Amaya’s necklace with interest. “May I?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Rathe touched the necklace gently. The bits of bone tasted of the jungle, they smelled yellow and orange and green, Rathe felt the ripple of a jaguar’s muscles, the hunger for blood. Beasts of all varieties called to her.

“You commune with animals,” Rathe said, understanding.

“I do,” said Amaya in surprise. “This gift has run in my family for generations. You can see all that?”

Rathe nodded. “I could see it contained mystical energy. But I need touch to understand it.”

Amaya studied the half-human creature. “Let me introduce you to the others on the ship,” Amaya suggested. She extended a hand to the reluctant newcomer to make it clear introductions would not be optional.

A large imposing man sat spread out in the kitchen, an assortment of chips and beer at hand. He grunted at their approach.

“Mick, this is Rathe. She’s from Earth-38. Try and make her feel welcome.”

Mick took a long sip of beer as he sized Rathe up. “You’re an alien,” he said gruffly.

“Half-Empathia. I sense feelings.”

Mick grunted. “Move along Feelings. I don’t do that stuff.”

Amaya rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to forgive Mick. He’s not the most…eloquent speaker.”

“I like him,” said Rathe with a grin. The burly man stuffed chips in his mouth as they retreated. Mick’s fiery blue aura wafted down the corridor behind Rathe.

The older white man and young black one started at Amaya and Rathe’s entrance into the engine room, ceasing their bickering.

“This is Firestorm,” introduced Amaya. “Jax and Professor Stein, this is our newest team member, Rathe.”

“How do you do?” asked the Professor in a courteous but clipped tone that suggested he still had the debate raging in his mind.

“What’s your skill?” asked Jax in a drawl. “Everyone here’s got something crazy about them. What’s your story? You a meta?”

“You two have identical auras, did you know that?” responded Rathe indirectly. The two markedly dissimilar men grinned at each other.

“Astonishing!” said the Professor. “It makes complete sense but I never would have guessed what with us being so different…”

“Just on the outside,” said Rathe.

“So you read people?” said Jax.

“Basically.”

“I don’t know if I like that,” he said warily.

“I can’t help you with that,” Rathe responded. “It’s kind of impossible to turn off. Much like your need to merge.”

Jax glanced sharply at his other half.

“We didn’t tell you that,” said Professor Stein suspiciously.

“It seemed obvious,” said Rathe. The growing distrust in the room was giving her a headache. “It’s been great to meet you but if it’s alright I’ve had a very long day.”

Amaya nodded and gratefully Rathe turned, headed back to the privacy of her small room for a chance to think.

The space glowed white, like the interior of an egg. Rathe turned off the light and lay on the mattress with her eyes closed. Unbidden tears rose. She let them seep through her eyelids and down her cheeks.

Less than two hours ago she’d been dead, having taken two bullets to protect Alex Danvers. Her girlfriend, the love of her life, had used a collection of alien artifacts imbued with power to bring her back, but at a cost. Rathe could never return to the world in which she died. She could never return to Alex. She pressed her fingers to her heart, their only connection across the multiverse, and felt only her own heart beating painfully in its cage.

The floor vibrated suddenly.

“Hey everyone, take-off in 30 seconds so get in and strap down or grab something!” Sara called over the intercom. Rathe wiped her face quickly and sprinted to the main room. For her first take-off she did not want to see what happened if she wasn’t strapped in.

“Out of my seat, Feelings,” said Mick. “That one’s free.”

“Thanks,” said Rathe, hopping over one chair. Carefully she watched Mick as he lowered and adjusted his harness. Sara sat up front, moving various levers as the screens flickered through data.

Sara glanced back at Rathe. “Brace yourself. This won’t be pleasant.”

Everything slid sideways and flipped inside out. Rathe felt everyone’s emotions all in a jumble as their auras twisted unexpectedly about the room. There was impatience, rage of both a fiery and simmering variety, cheeriness, someone was horny, and someone else felt anxious. Wait. That must be her. The disorientation was such that Rathe couldn’t distinguish which sensation matched to which aura, other than Ray’s which seemed obvious.

With a shudder, the Waverider came to a stop.

“Welcome to 1518,” announced Gideon in her clear neutral tone. “The Holy Roman Empire is currently the ruling power here in Alsace.”

Rathe tried to remove her harness but her fingers didn’t seem to work like she remembered.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Nate, holding her down gently. “Give yourself a minute to recover.” Rathe swallowed down the rising nausea and focused inward. Her limbs seemed to twitch of their own accord, preventing her from the usual calming method of movement. Instead, she focused on her breathing, imagining the warm blue ocean. Slowly the tilting ceased.

Rathe blinked. Everyone else was already up. Nate helped her stand, a move Rathe found irritating until she realized her balance was still fairly touch-and-go.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Other were already emerging from the fabrication room, sporting billowing clothes that suggested the Renaissance. Rathe dropped her head and she swallowed the lingering disorientation.

“Ok team,” called Sara. Her gold and white gown snuggly flattered her curves and emphasized the red-gold tones of her hair. Rathe glanced away from her prominent bosom feeling sick again.

“Our time seismograph is off the charts here. Signs point to DaVinci who supposedly vacationed in this area during his last years of life. We need to blend in with the townspeople, figure out if DaVinci is here and try to keep him clear of any threats. Questions?”

She paused.

“Great. We roll in five.”

Rathe stumbled into the fabrication room. Stepping into the scan box she winced as the blue light blurred her vision. The machine beeped.

“Women did not typically have short hair in this era,” Gideon stated. “Do you wish to have a wig or dress as a young man?”

Rathe grinned.

Sara counted heads again. The alien was still missing.

“Let’s head out gang,” she called. They didn’t have all day. Maybe she’d decided to bail on this one. As she turned movement caught the corner of her eye. A striking young man descended from the Waverider, extremely lean, brown hair dramatically swooped to the side in an echo of a Roman statue.

“Who…” she began

“Rathe!” Ray bounded over enthusiastically. “Almost didn’t recognize you!”

Sara shook her head, embarrassed at the mistake. It was clearly Rathe, that was obvious now, just entirely unexpected in the moment. Despite her generally feminine features, she managed to fully exude masculine energy. The contradiction was…intriguing. Rathe smirked and Sara felt irritation returning.

“You’re late. You gonna be able to keep up alien?” she asked.

“Fine,” said Rathe. “I think I’m doing pretty well seeing as I’m getting orientation on the fly.”

Sara ignored the jab. “Everyone have comms in?” she asked. The group nodded. “Good, disperse about town. Try to be inconspicuous. And please, no modern technology.”

Everyone wandered off, unconsciously heading out in twos and threes with the exception of Mick who beelined for the tavern. Rathe trailed uncertainly behind Nate and Ray.

“Rathe!” said Sara, waving her over. “What is this?” she asked gesturing to the outfit.

“Clothing,” said Rathe in surprise. “It’s authentic if that’s your problem.”

“My problem is that a cross-dressing girl in this time is not inconspicuous.”

“No one will notice,” Rathe said confidently.

“We noticed,” Sara countered.

“Only because I was the only missing person. These people aren’t expecting anyone. They will see what they expect to see. A young man with delicate features. Possibly an artist.”

“You need to change.”

“What’s your problem with me? It isn’t the clothes.”

Sara crossed her arms. Aggression radiated from her torso smelling of steel and rusted iron. Rathe knew she should shut up, let the moment pass. Sara could easily kick her ass and she was wired, every cell tense with the inability to blow off steam. The anger boiled over and threatened to become dangerous if she couldn’t find a release. Who was this Sara Lance anyway? Rathe didn’t particularly like her. Her aura lingered like the trapped souls that wandered the more tormented cemeteries, grayish silver, wispy and teasing, rarely benevolent. She reminded Rathe of death, of the blank period of time in which she’d been unliving and the terror of returning to life without the benefit of choice.

“I thought you couldn’t read minds,” Sara said.

“It’s not mind-reading. Call it intuition. Your energy plus our circumstance. I know a thing or two about how humans operate.”

“Even though you’re not human?” Sara wasn’t quite sure why this creature got to her so much. She felt the need to goad Rathe on, to make her angry and see what would happen. Rathe’s eyes grew bright, shifting from light gray to an almost silver tone that was difficult to look away from.

“I’m half-human,” Rathe hissed.

“Not to me,” said Sara darkly. “Something about you is off, and I’m going to figure out what it is.” Sara stalked away. Rathe took a step after her. A gloved hand clapped over her mouth and nose while another hand struck her deep in the gut. She bent in pain as her vision clouded with exploding stars and then darkness.

*

“This one isn’t a boy, I don’t know why you picked her,” said a syrupy voice.

“She has an interesting energy,” said a thick accented voice. “Will make for better distraction.”

Rathe coughed against the dirt floor of the hut, her hands tied painfully behind her back. A face came into view as it leaned down, dark thick hair and a full beard to match the thick accent. Rathe blinked. The man’s attire was wholly out of place. He seemed to know it, sweating profusely in his thick wool clothes. His companion, the one with the syrupy voice, appeared much more at ease, although equally out of place in a lightweight robe of pale blue that seemed to shimmer as he moved. A ring of metal encircled the back of his head, hooking over and just into the ears like headphones. He too had dark hair but closely cropped in a military-esque style. His dark eyes regarded Rathe with idle interest.

“What kind of distraction?” asked the lilting voice, somehow light but edged with menace. Rathe shuddered. He exuded death.

The dark-haired Russian retreated from Rathe into a pose of meditation, not answering. The man in pale blue studied Rathe more closely.

“You’re not from this time either.” It wasn’t a question. Rathe said nothing. He smiled. “No matter. This is the last time you shall see.”

The low chanting from the corner made Rathe feel itchy. She wanted to get up from this uncomfortable position. The restless energy flowed out, tickling her skin and making her twitch painfully against her restraints. She struggled to contain the overflowing energy to no avail. Thoughts and feelings zipped about, joy at returning to life, anguish at being torn from her home, her love, frustration at this new world, anger at…everything. She squeezed her eyes tight as the one thing she couldn’t do became inevitable. This man, a magician to some, but from her father’s lessons a vampire, was draining Rathe of her excess energy. On one hand she was grateful, there was too much for any Empathia, but that energy had to be dispelled carefully and no vampire would be interested in that.

Rathe’s entire body writhed as the energy radiated outwards in all directions. Every suppressed feeling left a trail of fireball blue and orange, smelling of burn rubber and rotting fruit, leaving the taste of sickness in Rathe’s mouth. Fury, sadness, loss, hopelessness… She felt it all return in the people of the town, starving during this hard year in a difficult time in history, looking for something, some way to get through the day. Her breathing evened. Released of the emotional buildup she felt oddly refreshed and centered. Calm in the middle of storm now brewing.

She opened her eyes. The Russian and pale blue man were gone.

*

Sara sauntered down the warm street, shielding her eyes from the sun. Where might a famous artist/inventor camp out in a town like this? Maybe he was just passing through. An inn seemed like the best bet. Sara turned down a road where she’d seen a sign for rooms. Her comm buzzed. Amaya’s clear voice came through.

“Nate and I located DaVinci. We’re moving him to a secure location.”

“Nice work. Ray? Firestorm?” She paused. “Rathe?”

A few townsfolks ran past her in the other direction. When more exited the tavern, including Mick, Sara stopped.

“What’s going on?” she asked Mick.

“Dunno,” he grunted. “But it feels chaotic. I like chaos.”

“Guys…” It was Amaya again. “Something’s happening. We lost DaVinci.”

Sara cursed under her breath. The air was filled with an odd mix of fear and excitement. Sara followed the crowd, skipping between people to move towards the front for a better vantage. Near the center of the town a middle-aged woman twitched and contorted in a bizarrely graceful dance. Her eyes rolled back as she moved, seemingly without control over her limbs. The crowd watched, low murmurs moving between neighbors, indicating no one quite understood what was going on. Another younger woman on the edge of the circle began to twitch as well, moving in to dance with the other woman. As Sara and Mick watched, a dozen more joined, mostly women, all dancing alone but never touching despite their erratic movements.

“Well I’m bored,” announced Mick. Sara grabbed his arm.

“This kind of thing doesn’t just happen,” Sara said.

“Don’t much care why it’s happening,” Mick responded. Sara gazed around. No other Legends. Where the hell were Nate and Amaya?

“Guys, where are you? We’ve got a situation near the town square.”

Static filled the comm. Sara hastily shut it off. A strange sensation came over Sara, like she needed to check her phone or awaiting a message. Mick shuddered slightly, glaring at a small hut down the street with a thousand-yard stare. He moved slowly, intently towards it. Sara took a couple jogging steps to catch up.

“Where are you going? We can’t just leave these people!”

Mick shrugged in that infuriating way he had. “Felt like checking this out.” At the door Mick pushed his way inside without knocking. The house was a single open room, kitchen along one side and a small bed and desk in an opposite corner on the hard-packed dirt floor. In the empty corner lay Rathe, tied at the feet and hands and struggling to sit upright. Mick ripped the binding away. Rathe grimaced as the twine cut into her skin before snapping.

Sara was about to protest when the other Legends burst in.

“What’s going on here?” asked Firestorm.

“Is everything ok?” echoed Ray. “It felt off.”

“Just me,” said Rathe. “Glad you all heard.”

Firestorm paused. “Wait, so you can just call all of us?”

Rathe opened her mouth but Nate cut in. “We can discuss this later,” he said. “Do you all know what is going on?”

“We lost DaVinci,” said Sara.

“Well, yes. But _this_ this the dancing plague! It’s one of the greatest mysterious events in history.”

“Not anymore,” said Rathe. “There’s a vampire. He took my energy. They don’t have the ability to control it so it gets dispersed in an erratic manner. In this case, infecting people with the urge to dance until they drop.”

Sara looked between Nate and Rathe. “So the people out there are going to keep dancing…”

“Until they die,” finished Nate. “Yeah. It’s intense.”

“They won’t,” said Rathe. “Because I’m here. It’s my fault the energy got released that way. But I can attempt to control it.”

“Fine,” said Sara. “You handle the dance party. Ray go with her in case back-up is needed. The rest of us need to find DaVinci.”

“I might know something about that as well,” said Rathe with downturned eyes. “Two men, both from different times, not this one. One Russian the other…I’m not sure. He had an unusual accent.”

“Shit,” said Sara. “More time travelers.”

“And not good ones,” added Firestorm.

“Time travel means a time ship,” said Sara firmly. “If we find that we can hopefully prevent them taking DaVinci out of this time.”

Rathe stood stiffly with Mick and Ray’s help. The wild dancing in the street had grown to include dozens. Rathe watched, the images of the twirling citizens mirrored in her silver eyes. Without warning she thrust herself into the midst of the fray.

“Hey!” cried Ray. Mick shrugged.

“Feelings can handle herself,” he said.

“How would you know?”

Mick shrugged again. “She got herself out of the last scrap.”

“With our help!” argued Ray.

“Right, but she knew how to call for help. That’s half the battle.”

Grudgingly Ray nodded. The two Legends watched as the alienish creature moved and twisted.

“How long will this take?” Ray whispered loudly. Mick groaned. The dancers continued around and around until Ray lost track of time. The comm crackled.

“DaVinci is gone,” said Sara sourly. “Let’s move out. We need to find him.”

“That’s gonna be a problem,” said Ray. “We are still in full swing here. Pun intended.”

“Ok, we’ll standby on shifts. I’ll come relieve you two.”

Sara kept the vigil over the possessed dancing through the night. Other curious townspeople also watched, lighting fires around the perimeter. The flickering light cast shadows that moved in an even more exaggerated fashion. As the moon crossed the sky, slowly some dancers exited the makeshift circle. Rathe continued, eyes nearly closed, limbs moving constantly. By dawn, only she remained. As the last of the townspeople retreated for an hour or two of sleep, Rathe’s movements slowed and she came to rest, the swirling vortex of energy and movement settling back into her skin. Her lids hung heavy from the activity and extended wakefulness. She breathed deeply, letting the early morning rays of sun turn in inside of her eyelids pink.

Rathe felt Sara watching, her impatience and frustration at losing DaVinci, the belief that Rathe had caused their problems on this mission. She had in a sense. It would set back an already fraught relationship.

“I don’t want to rush you…” said Sara finally.

“I know,” said Rathe. “Let’s go.”


	2. Blast from the Past

Rathe crashed as soon as she got to her room on the Waverider, not even bothering to change from her Renaissance apparel. She awoke in a panic, starting at the unfamiliar bed and room. The small rounded-wall space seemed to close in on her as the past day, two days, came flooding back. Hastily she tossed on some normal clothes and headed out of the shrinking space, famished after her long rest.

Waves of green and silver shimmered and shifted out the window, filled with subliminal images that triggered the mind without actually connecting to anything. Rathe watched, quest for food temporarily forgotten.

“It’s the time stream,” said Amaya, interrupting her thoughts. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Rathe nodded uncertainly. “Where are we going?” she asked hesitantly.

Amaya shrugged. “Not sure. In between jumps we recharge in the time stream to avoid making changes. Sara is probably taking stock of our options and next steps.” _Since we lost DaVinci_. Rathe cringed at the unspoken thought. If she hadn’t been there it would have gone fine. No distraction could have been possible. She wasn’t helping the Legends at all, in fact quite the opposite.

Rathe squared her shoulders. She would tell Sara. Go back to 2017 or whatever year it now was and live out some kind of life on Earth-1. Everyone would be happier. Rathe’s stomach rumbled. She would tell Sara right after getting some breakfast.

Mick reclined at the kitchen table, imperceptibly acknowledging Rathe’s arrival with a half tilt of the head. A single contraption, similar to the fabrication machine, rested in the corner. The smooth silver box contained no buttons or levers, simply a small open inward space to discharge its products. Heavy footsteps shuffled behind Rathe. Mick’s thick worn hand extended into the open space. A blue light scanned it, blinking red to signal its conclusion. Mick withdrew. A few seconds later the machine pushed out a plate of bacon, which he took without fanfare. He shoved the steaming strips into his mouth.

“It can read what you want,” he said between bites. “Pretty nifty.”

Hesitantly Rathe extended a hand, cringing when the blue light appeared. It scanned painlessly, turning red. A plate of pancakes, eggs, biscuits and gravy appeared, followed a few seconds later by a pot of tea. Rathe dug into the food with gusto, earning a grunt of approval from Mick who watched her openly as he munched on the remaining bacon.

“I like you Feelings,” Mick said. “And I don’t like most people. Why is that?”

Rathe swallowed an oversized bite of biscuit. “Why don’t you like most people or why do you like me?” she asked.

Mick snorted. “Maybe that’s why,” he said, eyebrows rising with amusement. “You don’t take shit.” He clapped her on the back as he rose. “Hope you stick around Feelings. We could use more minds like you and me.”

In the now empty room, Rathe continued to work her way around the plate. Slowly the hunger pangs faded, replaced by a comfortable fullness. She slopped up the remaining yolk with the last pieces of biscuit, contemplating the nearly clean plate. The emptiness spread from the plate to the room, into her soul. A blank space that needed more than food. There was a gap in the air around her, something missing. Rathe closed her eyes pushing down the welling emotion.

Gods, she missed Alex. She touched her hand to her heart. Distantly the echo of another heart beat against her ribs. She could almost feel Alex’s lips closing in on hers, softly brushing…

The door swung open loudly, handle banging against the wall and causing Rathe to jump. Sara stared at her.

“What are you doing?” the blonde asked.

“Eating,” said Rathe stupidly. “I was. I finished.” She recalled her plan and cleared her throat. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about…”

The door swung open again. Rathe cringed as the handle banged the same spot on the wall. Someone really ought to put a dampener on the door.

“Just the people I need,” said Nate. “The wow signal. Something has changed and it could be major.”

“Wow signal?” asked Sara. She slurped back a large coffee, her aura brightened visibly from gray to silver as the caffeine coursed through her system.

“Possible alien communication,” Nate explained. “Good thing we’ve got an alien onboard. In our time, nothing ever came of it. But apparently this one is different since the timeline is all wacky now.”

Sara glanced over quickly at the alien in question. Guess she couldn’t tell her to hit the road quite yet. Maybe after this mission.

“Let’s get moving,” she said.

Rathe quickly followed, strapping herself in tightly as Sara called the rest of the team. The Waverider shuddered in its familiar way. Rathe closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of the seat straps that held her in place. She wasn’t moving. Not actually moving at all. She repeated the calming chant.

Her insides lurched sickeningly. She fought the urge to open her eyes, keeping them closed until everything seemed to still. At least the nausea passed more quickly this time.

“Welcome Legends,” intoned Gideon. “The year is 1977, Ohio State University. In two hours, astronomer-scientist Jerry Ehman will detect a series a noise known as the ‘wow’ signal, thus named for his somewhat inarticulate response to the anomaly.”

“No time to waste,” said Sara, unbuckling. “Rathe, looks like you’re on alpha team with me. Ray and Martin will join for any code-breaking. No one else leaves the ship until we know more.”

The team marched in silence across the university campus. Sara’s wide-legged pantsuit swished stylishly around her ankles. The big, curly hair she sported brought out the softness in her cheeks. She was really quite pretty, Rathe decided. She pulled her eyes away before Sara would notice her staring.

Ray and Professor Stein bickered about the meaning of the wow signal as they approached the observatory.

“Everyone knows it was just noise from comets,” insisted Ray.

“That theory’s been invalidated and you know it!” countered Professor Stein. “Hydrogen doesn’t emit that noise, even with dual comets. It was clearly alien in nature.”

“Rathe, what do you think?” asked Ray as the group reached the entrance.

“We’ll have to see,” said Rathe vaguely. Her gut twisted. Truthfully, she had no idea what this “wow” signal was. And the Legends seemed to think all aliens knew each other or at least spoke the same language. She prayed it would be something she would understand. Something stupid like a misdirected letter to someone’s distant grandma.

The observatory was nearly empty. A thin man with a thin mustache occupied the topmost room, surrounded by huge computers and printers that reeled off spools of numbers and letters. His tag read Jerry Ehman. He noted their entrance curiously.

“Not many people check out the observatory,” he stated, extending a hand. “What brings you folks out tonight?”

“Hi,” said Ray brightly. “Visiting scientists. Don’t mind us.”

“May I join you?” asked Professor Stein. “Alien signals, while not my area of study, are of particular fascination to me…”

The two men retreated as Ehman offered Stein a tour of the facility. Sara glanced about the dingy room. A series of printers spooled paper on a continuous basis, all filled with gibberish.

“Seems like a waste,” muttered Sara. Rathe snorted under her breath. Idly Rathe held the paper, letting it slide through her hands as the printer pushed more out, characters blending together to form shapes and…

Rathe dropped the paper. Ray looked over sharply at the crinkling sound. Just then the static on the monitor erupted into a loud succession of ambient noise. Jerry Ehman stopped his discussion with Professor Stein, placing his head close to the monitor.

The paper continued to churn, numbers and letters shifting in pattern to reflect the changing sound. Even though Rathe no longer held the paper she could see the form it took. For over a minute all five remained shock still. Abruptly, the sound vanished, replaced by the previous static, which suddenly felt much quieter. Ehman jumped to his feet and tore the paper away from the printer, scanning rapidly. His eyes lit up as he circled a short series of numbers.

“Wow,” he said breathlessly. He stared a few seconds longer, finally so moved as to jot “wow” in the margins of the page.

Sara rolled her eyes. _That’s our cue_. “What’s it mean?” she asked Ehman pointedly. “And how is it different?” she followed, directing the second question to Ray and Professor Stein.

Gently Professor Stein extracted the paper from Ehman’s hands, studying it closely. Ray stood over his shoulder.

“Different?” asked Ehman. “We’ve never seen anything like this. It’s a sign that life exists beyond what we know here!”

“Definitely alien,” said Rathe, gazing out through the curved skylight of the observatory into the barely visible night sky.

“This is not any language I’ve ever seen,” said Professor Stein.

“Yeah,” agreed Ray. “The dispersion of characters doesn’t suggest standard grammatical rules.”

“Because it’s not,” said Rathe sharply. She took a deep breath, dread welling up inside. “It’s Empathia. It’s not language in the traditional sense. More a kind of mentalese.”

“Excuse me?” asked Ehman incredulously. “You can confirm this is a message from alien life??”

“Just take a seat and try to stay out of our way,” said Sara to the scientist. She turned to Rathe. “You’re saying this comes from your people. What does it mean?”

Rathe lowered her gaze from the skylight, silver eyes piercing into Sara’s hazel ones. “It means earth is their next target. You’re all going to die.”

*

Rathe stood in the center of the Waverider, other Legends in a semicircle around her.

“Explain,” commanded Sara. “Everything you told us earlier. We need the whole team on this.”

Rathe closed her eyes briefly, then began.

“The message was from the Empathia. The same alien race as my father. Empathia have, over millennia, found it necessary to move on to new planets when old ones are on the brink of failure or the population expands. They accomplish this by taking over another habitable planet, identified as those with more or less intelligent species. They wipe out the dominant species of an existing planet. When my father arrived here it was by accident, on his way to ‘clean’ another planet. He told me that ten years before his arrival earth had been scouted and rejected. The message we saw today suggests otherwise. Something changed their minds about earth being a good place to take over.”

“How do they take over?” asked Amaya.

“Self-destruction,” said Rathe. “A handful of highly trained scouts will be placed here. Collectively they will drive humanity to destroy itself. Most people will never know an outside species was involved in their extinction.”

“Not making it easy for us,” said Nate. “It could come from anywhere.”

“Your only hope is to convince them to not arrive,” said Rathe. “Once they land, game over human race.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” asked Sara. “Maybe you sent them a signal and that’s why they’re invading. Maybe the message is just gibberish.”

“I guess you don’t know,” said Rathe. “But I learned enough after my father died that I wouldn’t want to come across my own alien kind. They would reject me as much as you, since I am half human.”

Sara narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Rathe didn’t blink or break eye contact. Sara finally ceded the point, looking away.

“Maybe we could burn the planet up,” suggested Mick. “Bet they wouldn’t want a torched world.”

“Probably not, but we still have to live here,” responded Amaya.

Mick grunted. “No one else had a suggestion.”

“Mick’s right. We need ideas,” said Sara.

“Ok, why did the Empathia reject earth the first time around?” asked Nate.

“Humans are poor emotional regulators,” explained Rathe. “For a full-blooded Empathia it’s too much at once, they overload.”

“Well, people aren’t better at that,” puzzled Ray.

“No,” said Rathe slowly. “But half-Empathia aren’t as connected, so they can learn control.” The realization dawned suddenly. “This is a hybrid Empathia race. You don’t have Kryptonians here either.”

“Again,” said Sara, frustration growing, “how do we stop it?”

“I have an idea,” said Rathe. “I need to work with Ray and Professor Stein to transmit a message back to them.” Rathe glanced at the group. She needed strong emotion. Low control. Or at least a willingness to release control.

“Mick and Sara,” said Rathe. “You will be the message. You need to convince them that earthlings are too emotional to handle. If they perceive the human race as having the potential to overwhelm scouts, they will avoid it, consider humanity a less evolved species, not worth stealing from.”

“Less evolved?” muttered Nate. Amaya gave him a wry look.

Ehman ceded control of the observatory as the Legends returned. He appeared to have aged years in the few hours they’d been gone.

“I can’t make sense of it!” he cried, tearing at his already thin hair in increasing agitation. Finally Rathe approached, and holding him by the shoulders he calmed and sat.

Ray attached a number of nodes brought from the ship to Sara and Mick’s heads while Professor Stein worked to reverse the flow of sound waves from the Big Ear apparatus. Rathe tried to coach her subjects.

“Strong emotion. Think of the worst things that have happened to you. Get angry. Furious.” Rathe looked at Sara. “You should think about hitting me, or how much you dislike aliens. These ones want your home and they don’t care who or how you die to get it. Mick, the Time Masters. Your parents leaving and never believing.” He growled lightly and Rathe nodded.

“That’s good, but hold it until we’re ready to transmit.”

“This technology is obsolete even by my standards,” muttered Professor Stein. “But I believe we are all set.”

The professor flipped the switch. Mick and Sara grimaced as they let the bad memories take over. Rathe pulled every negative, overpowering emotion she had to the surface, and pushed them towards her teammates, amplifying anything already attached to their emotional memory. The room filled with vivid reds and orange, burnt rubber, the taste of soap, the smell of a black eye, split lip, feeling before a lightning storm, and the shiver just before a giant clap of thunder hits. Pure rage and anxiety until the humans appeared on the verge of losing themselves.

“Stop,” said Rathe. Professor Stein flipped the switch back. Sara and Mick appeared dazed with the effort.

“How will we know if it worked?” asked Ray.

Rathe looked to the sky again. “If there’s a future,” she said. “But more immediately, if we don’t hear back in the next day, it means they left.”

*

Sara kicked the heavy bag again. One day gone, another crisis averted, she should be feeling good. But ever since being hooked up to the Big Ear to share her emotions with the universe she’d felt out of sorts. She hit again. Why did Rathe always make her feel like crap? Either it was influencing Sara’s state or putting her in situations where Sara had to access the parts of her she wished didn’t exist. The dead parts. The ones that killed without compunction. She executed a clean two-three-four combination, ending with a roundhouse. The alien made her angry. _Half-alien_. Right. Guess she was better than the ones that threatened to destroy earth. But maybe not. Sara kicked again. She was inscrutable. Punch. Impossible. Kick. Infuriating. She was…

The door to the gym slid open. Rathe immediately glanced behind when she saw Sara.

“I thought…” Rathe began. It irked Sara. Here she was again and apologizing for being here. Sara wiped the sweat from her brow.

“It’s your gym too,” said Sara, kicking again. “As long as you’re a Legend.”

Rathe stepped into the gym hesitantly.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” she said. “I don’t think this is working out.”

Sara struck the bag several times before responding. A potential opportunity. She was curious to play this out.

“Why?”

“Well for starters, you don’t like me. And if I’m being honest, I don’t much like you.”

Sara grinned. Finally, something they agreed on.

“Is that it?”

“No,” said Rathe. “Your team works well together. I don’t fit. I’m a hindrance.”

Sara swung and kicked, catching the bag.

“I’d say the other day you helped us out,” she responded.

“Sure,” acknowledged Rathe,” but not the day before that.”

Sara shrugged. “It happens.”

The thwack of her gloves against the leather filled the empty pause.

“We still don’t like each other,” inserted Rathe during a break.

“I know a good way to solve that, or at least make it bearable,” said Sara. She nodded to the gloves Rathe carried. “Up for a spar?”

Not breaking eye contact, Rathe dropped her bag and strapped on her grappling gloves. They moved in tandem to the circle in the center of the room, warily eying each other. Sara struck first.

The blow glanced off Rathe’s cheek. Christ, Sara was fast. Much faster than Alex. Rathe stepped back and peeled away her shirt.

As the blow partially connected Sara felt a surge of joy at the fight. The hit must have hurt but instead of reacting in pain Rathe removed her shirt, revealing a black sport bra and lean set of abs. Sara raised her eyebrows. More fit than she expected. And more cocky if she wasn’t afraid of a direct body blow. Maybe this fight would last longer than expected, or at least provide more satisfaction. Sara feigned another hit but kicked instead. Rathe caught the leg and flipped her onto her back. In a fraction of a second Rathe was on top of Sara and strangely, Sara couldn’t move. She wanted to but also…didn’t. Every muscle relaxed as though she were in a deep meditative state.

“No fair,” she said breathing hard from the takedown. “You’re using your powers.”

Rathe grinned. “And you’re faster and stronger. I’d say it’s plenty fair.” She leaned in close. “Did you think I was just going to let you kick my ass?”

Sara felt her heart beating quickly, but not from the exercise. She felt the blood coursing through her body, pulsing in her neck, through her core and between her legs.

Sara hoped Rathe wasn’t sensing this. Or maybe Rathe was causing it. Either way, it wasn’t something she wanted to think about too much. The half-alien regarded her impetuously.

Rathe stood, extending a hand. “Again?” she asked.

Sara nearly got Rathe the second time before Rathe overpowered her senses and broke her focus.

“Again,” ordered Sara.

They fought, over and over, inflicting bruises and mat burns but always ending the same way, with Sara pinned to the wall or floor. Each time Sara felt the hot rush of blood to the head that made her dizzy and that surge of longing. Rathe’s lithe body twisted as they fought, graceful as a dancer and surprisingly muscled. Sara tried to not enjoy the strike of their skin together, or to think too hard about the “v” shape below Rathe’s abs and where it led.

“Again?” asked Rathe, after pinning Sara to the wall for the third time. Rathe’s warm breath tickled Sara’s ear.

“Again,” Sara agreed. She spun around in time to see Rathe’s self-satisfied grin. Her fist struck, hard, and Rathe’s head snapped back as her feet temporarily left the ground. She crumpled onto the floor, unmoving.

Sara breathed heavily. _Shit._ She hadn’t meant to knock her out, just wanted to teach her a lesson. Win the goddamn fight seeing as she was clearly the better fighter. It should have felt good. Rathe was a bit of a punk. Cocky. She wanted to get to people and had gotten to Sara. Sara had needed to get back at her.

“Gideon,” called Sara. “I’m gonna need you to prep a bed in medical.”

“Right away Captain Lance. Shall I call anyone to assist you with Ms. Adler?”

“I’ll handle it,” Sara said.

She dropped to one knee and gently lifted Rathe in her arms. The half-human’s head rolled back as her eyes fluttered.

“What happened?” she mumbled.

“I’m taking you to medical,” Sara said. “We’ll get you fixed up.”

“I miss you Alex,” Rathe said, slurring her words slightly. She placed a hand against Sara’s breast. “You don’t feel the same on this earth.”

Rathe’s hand flooded Sara with the summer sun, filtering through the thick leaves of an old tree. Nyssa kissing her, her hand reaching for Sara’s stomach and sliding lower, looking deep into the eyes of another, someone she didn’t know that radiated blue despite her dark brown eyes.

Sara set Rathe down quickly on the medical bed, breaking the connection. All the feelings and emotions she hadn’t felt in a long time vanished. She closed her eyes. It was almost like being alive again. Really alive.


	3. The Edge of What Is Known

Sara contemplated the sleeping creature on the medical bed. Gideon had already sedated Rathe and run some initial tests. Rest and some superficial healing had been prescribed. The flood of energy Sara had felt before depositing Rathe returned distantly, the echo of a shadow seen in a dream. She had to know more. More about how she worked and why she made Sara feel the way she did.

Sara stepped forward, studying Rathe more closely. It wasn’t that Rathe was unattractive. Maybe even the opposite if Sara was being honest with herself. Rathe had nice angular features, a strong jawline, striking eyes and rakish hair. That’s it. Rathe was striking. Even the way she moved was striking, or at least unusual. Sara had a difficult time taking her eyes off the half-human, but that didn’t mean she liked her. Something about this thing’s alien ability had to be causing those feelings, the feverish reaction Sara felt whenever they were in close proximity.

“Gideon, I’d like you to run a brain scan,” Sara said.

“I’ve done that Captain Lance. There is no sign of concussion or other permanent damage.”

“A different one,” responded Sara. “I’d like you to analyze her Empathic ability.”

“Right away,” said Gideon agreeably.

Sara watched as the blue laser ran a gridded pattern across Rathe’s head. The screen to the side lit up with a 3-D image. Various regions colored in pink began to overlay the 3-D structure.

“Talk me through it Gideon. What am I seeing?”

“Ms. Adler’s brain is 90 percent physiologically identical to the human brain,” Gideon stated.

“I’m guessing that ten percent makes a big difference,” said Sara wryly.

“Indeed you are correct Captain Lance.” The image zoomed into the cortex, lighting up several different regions colored in pink.

“The regions you see illuminated contain substantial variation. These portions are typically responsible for emotional processing and memory. Ms. Adler’s structure, in addition to be substantially larger and with more connection to sensory regions, also includes an overabundance of mirror neurons, highly sensitive and capable of picking up on brainwave patterns from a distance.”

“So she can sense someone else’s feelings?” asked Sara.

“It’s impossible to know for certain without a test subject,” stated Gideon.

“Can she actively change what another person feels?”

“Given this density, it seems likely Ms. Adler would be able to overpower the mirror neurons of humans in her vicinity,” Gideon agreed. “But again, more rigorous testing would be required to confirm the scope of Ms. Adler’s ability.”

“Check for research on the species,” ordered Sara.

“I’m afraid Earth-1 has never encountered Empathia, now or in any future records I can access. If you allow me to speculate I imagine she inherently amplifies emotion of humans in proximity.”

Sara released her breath. That made sense. Sort of. But if Rathe wasn’t actually projecting why did she always feel so angry? So aroused?

Sara rubbed her eyes.

“Thanks Gideon,” she said. “I’m off to bed but let me know if anything changes.”

Sara only slept a couple hours before restlessness set in. The rest of the team needed a full cycle of sleep though, so she fought the urge to wake them, heading into the library. Nate tapped a pen impatiently into a book, not noticing Sara’s arrival until she placed a hand on the page.

“Hey, warn a guy next time,” he said starting in surprise.

“Keep your ears open next time,” she retorted.

“I would, or I was, but you’re like a freaking ninja.”

Sara smirked. “Any progress?” she asked, leaning over the desk.

Nate sighed. “Nada. We’ve got anomalies all over the timeline. Trying to prioritize them is a nightmare. Even so, it would take a hundred lifetimes to correct them and by then…”

“We will have introduced thousands more,” finished Sara grimly. Nate nodded.

“We do our best,” said Sara. “Any recommendations?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Nate, spinning his book towards Sara. “A lot of unusual reports showing up in Las Vegas 2020. A series of particularly brutal murders.”

“That seems a bit pedestrian for the Legends, don’t you think?”

Nate shook his head. “Not when the murders match precisely the M.O. of Jack the Ripper. The world’s most infamous serial killer who was supposed to exist more than one hundred and thirty years in the past.”

“So Jack the Ripper got skipped into the future. Why are we focusing here?”

“Because,” said Nate leaning forward, “these aren’t ordinary murders. I mean they are, but the impact they have on future-future events is astronomical.”

“How so?”

“The U.S. isn’t doing so good in 2020 and these murders make the situation a whole lot worse. They become the touchstone for a lot of fear and anxiety. They spawn a series of copycat efforts across the nation, and a wave of repression that basically undoes the entire sexual revolution of the twentieth century not to mention a return to some grisly policies related to incarceration.”

Nate took a breath. “It’s the final push that may trigger a second civil war.”

“It undoes history,” said Sara.

“In effect,” agreed Nate. “If Jack the Ripper exists in this time, it fundamentally prevents the future from going the direction it’s supposed to.”

“I’ll set a course for before the first murder,” said Sara. “Get some sleep. When everyone is rested and up, we’ll do the jump.”

*

Nate went to sleep, while Sara tried to focus on future year reports pulled up by Gideon. The words swam before her eyes.

“Captain,” said Gideon. “I’d say I’m sorry to interrupt, but you appear as though you would prefer it.”

“What is it Gideon?”

“You asked me to alert you as to any change in Ms. Adler’s status. She is awake.”

Rathe sat up on the medical bed, about to hop off when Sara entered. Still in her sports bra, the bruises around her torso were darkening painfully, although she did not appear to notice.

Rathe grinned impishly. “Again?” she asked.

Sara scoffed. Rathe moved with impressive speed towards the door. Instinctively Sara’s hand shot out, knocking Rathe to the floor. Sara pinned her arm against the alien’s neck, pressing her into the ground. Rathe gasped and smiled.

“Do it,” she said hoarsely. “Just a bit harder.”

Rathe grabbed Sara’s arm and anger flooded her senses. Blinding, burning rage. The fiery fury of the Lazarus Pit. She pressed harder. _This isn’t right_. Sara didn’t want to hurt her. This was Rathe, not Sara. Summoning all of her will, Sara released her grip.

“Why are you so determined I should hurt you?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rathe gasped.

“Right,” said Sara. “See, at first I thought you were just unpleasant. Which you kind of are, but it’s more than that. You want me to dislike you. You’re deliberately trying to put me on edge, make me overreact and hurt, maybe even kill you.”

Rathe coughed drily, rubbing her throat. Sara crouched and spoke to her in a quiet voice.

“To that I say: you don’t know us very well. I may not like you, but you’re a part of my crew now. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. You need to figure out your issues and deal with them. You want help with it, you come talk to anyone here. But we aren’t leaving you behind. No matter how badly you might want it.”

Sara extended a hand to help her up. “That being said, I need someone to do research for us before our next jump and I’ve just nominated you.”

Rathe breathed deeply, marveling how old books carried that same intoxicating smell in every universe. She breathed in the musky paper, letting the thin sheets rifle through her fingers. Sara watched with crossed arms.

“Maybe more reading,” Sara suggested.

“I’m getting there,” said Rathe calmly as she examined and held various books and objects in the room, smiling and frowning, brow furrowing in turn. Everything glowed with the energy of a different time. The books smelled of aged wine, mellowed over the years, carefully tended to, strongest and smoothest elements persisting and offering insight.

“What’s the mission?” asked Rathe.

“Ever heard of Jack the Ripper?” asked Sara.

Rathe grinned. “I went through a two-month obsession with serial murder psychology,” she mused.

“Good,” said Sara. “Cause he ended up in 2020 Las Vegas. And you need to narrow our search before we get there. Figure out how and where we find this guy before his first murder.”

*

The hot sun beat down, scorching the already dry earth. Sara shielded her eyes against the harsh light. Where were all the people? Other than the occasional person hopping out of a car and dashing inside there was no one to be seen braving the sidewalks. Sara had been to Vegas once before, sophomore year spring break in college, but it had seemed a much more pleasant place then. Definitely not as hot. Rathe sauntered off the Waverider in jeans and a worn t-shirt. Leave it up to the alien to not know how to dress in Vegas. She walked past Sara without a glance. Sara grabbed her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sara asked.

Rathe stared at her. “It’s Vegas,” she responded. “Gambling?”

“I’m with Feelings,” said Mick.

Sara tightened her grip until Rathe cringed. “We’re here on a mission.”

“Right,” gasped Rathe. “And where do you think Jack finds his targets?”

Sara raised her eyebrows.

“On the gambling floor?” Rathe offered. “Look, all his initial victims worked at or around the Bellagio.  That’s where I’m going. And I plan to blend in, by doing some light gambling.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” seconded Mick.

Sara glared. She wasn’t sure if Rathe or Mick was being more a pain in her ass. “Fine. But I’m coming and so is Ray. And any money you lose is your own.”

“Deal.”

The small group walked the short distance from the cloaked time ship into the Bellagio. Not even the buzzing of insects distracted from the intense heat that pounded from above and then rose simmering from the concrete. Mick opened the door to the Bellagio and a blast of chilled air greeted them. Sara blinked as her eyes adjusted to the interior lighting.

The inside of the casino was packed, from the restaurants to the left and right, to the tables of card games and slot machines. Sara wore a tight red miniskirt, she recalled that being the common outfit when she’d been in Vegas, but the majority of customers were dressed as though they just rolled out of bed. She glanced at Rathe. Rathe caught her eye and made a show of checking out her outfit.

“I’m not saying it isn’t a good look for you, but it’s a bit conspicuous,” Rathe said.

“Vegas has changed,” retorted Sara.

“But I bet the money hasn’t,” said Mick. “Craps for me.”

“Great,” said Rathe. “I’ll take the roulette tables.”

“Oh! Blackjack for me,” said Ray. “I’ve always wanted to try counting cards in Vegas.”

Sara sighed. “I’ll make the rounds between all of you. Keep your eyes peeled and comms open.”

The three zipped off to their respective locations. Sara spotted a waitress and followed her as she slipped through a nearly invisible door to a back room. Sara ducked out of sight while the girl filled several drink orders at the bar in the back and exited again. Carefully Sara crept deeper into the employee area, finally stumbling upon her goal. Racks and racks of short black dresses, freshly laundered, hung ready for the next shift of drink girls.

“Inconspicuous my ass,” muttered Sara as she slipped out of her dress and into a uniform with “Miranda” embroidered over the right breast. She headed to the backroom bar, turning the name away from the bartender in case he knew this Miranda chick.

“Beer, G and T, and virgin Shirly Temple,” she rattled off.

“Virgin Shirley Temple?” asked the bartender in amusement. Sara smiled flirtatiously.

“You wouldn’t believe this guy,” she commiserated. The bartender guffawed and passed the three beverages over.

“Oh shoot, I must have set my tray down when I stopped by the restroom,” Sara said. She smiled pathetically.

“Happens all the time,” said the bartender with a wink. “Janitorial will pick it up.” He handed her a new one.

“Thanks,” she said, spinning around with the tray loaded, hoping it looked natural. Thank god for that waitressing job in high school. She approached Ray first at the blackjack table, weaving in and around overweight tourists in slogan-ridden t-shirts and plastic sandals. The dim light did a lot to hide the slow decay of the space. As Sara pressed against tables and walls to stay out of the way, frayed fabric, peeling wallpaper, and chips in the decorative columns were impossible to avoid. Even the people in this near-future time carried a sense of wear and tear. A general sense of exhaustion, above and beyond the usual 24-hour gambling cycle, hoovered over the tables. These people gambled as an escape, even as the façade that supported their escape reflected more and more the declining reality outside.

TVs near the entrance reported the usual litany of woes. Sara paused as the silent commentator pointed to a graph. Her eyes popped. Hard times indeed. Unemployment hovered over twenty percent. No wonder everything looked like crap, people included. The image on the screen shifted to show the U.S. California, Oregon, and Washington grayed out and moved away. A collection of states in the Northeast did the same. That civil war Nate mentioned must occur on two fronts.

“Your beverage,” Sara said, finally reaching Ray’s table.

“What did you get me?”

“Virgin Shirley Temple.”

Ray’s eyes lit up. “How did you know?!?” he asked. He took a long sip and sighed. “I love these things.”

“I had a feeling,” said Sara wryly. “How’s the view?”

“Right. No action here. Except the house is cleaning me dry. Turns out counting cards is a bit trickier than I thought. They keep reshuffling the decks!”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Sara retorted.

She swung by craps next, handing Mick a beer and leaving. He raised it in salute, draining half the bottle before she’d gotten even ten feet away. Rathe leaned casually over the roulette table, eyes scanning the wheel with a distant look. She pointed and the dealer placed a small black ball on the number and spun. Rathe turned from the table as the wheel spun, noticing Sara in her new get-up with surprise. Sara approached.

“Gin and tonic isn’t really my drink,” said Rathe. “But an interesting choice. One that reveals a lot about how you think of me.”

“Such as?” asked Sara.

“You tell me.”

The wheel slowed and stopped. Rathe continued looking at Sara, almost deliberately ignoring the game. Others at the table applauded. Sara broke eye contact, looking over Rathe’s shoulder to see who won the round.

“You won,” said Sara in surprise.

“I know.”

Rathe turned, indicating to the dealer that she would continue. She studied the board again, others at the table watching her curiously. Finally she selected a different number, still black. The wheel spun, landing on Rathe’s choice again. Sara edged closer and unexpectedly Rathe put and air around her.

“One more,” said Rathe to the dealer. Carefully she chose yet another, moving all of her chips. No one else at the table played, watching to see if this person could win an impressive three in a row or if she would be going home empty-handed.

The wheel spun round and round with the dealer’s ball, circling with the inevitability of landing where Rathe had decided. The crowd applauded loudly, drawing looks from the neighboring games. Rathe lifted the untouched drink high in the air and pulled Sara close. Sara elbowed her hard.

“Play along,” whispered Rathe roughly in her ear.

Sara feigned a smile for the onlookers, swallowing her discomfort with following a plan she knew nothing about. A sign on the wall caught her eye.

 _For private time alone with any of our waitstaff, just talk to your dealer. All gender preferences honored_.

Well _that_ was certainly new in Vegas. Something Sara wished she’d known before disguising herself as a drink girl. Rathe leaned over and spoke to the dealer in a low tone. She collected a number of chips, setting a handful aside for the dealer, and escorted Sara away.

“Where are we going?” asked Sara. “Tell me there is more to this than you trying to make me uncomfortable again.”

Rathe’s eyebrows popped up as she looked quickly at Sara.

“I make you uncomfortable?”

“Don’t play games,” said Sara. “When we fought you did it over and over.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable…” Rathe insisted.

Sara let a frustrated groan escape. “Is. There. A. Plan?”

Rathe spun her against the wall and leaned in. For a moment Sara swore she was about to kiss her, but she moved her head, tucking it into the crook of her neck. Rathe’s lips breathed against Sara’s ear as she spoke.

“This is the first Jack murder,” Rathe said. “This day, this location. A drink girl approaches a table where there is an unusual winning streak. The John takes her back, and afterwards…”

“So I’m the bait?” said Sara.

“I didn’t expect that you would be the one to approach the table,” responded Rathe. “You were supposed to be back-up.”

The stood, pressed together against the wall while Sara let this digest.

“Do you think Jack was watching out there?”

“I do,” said Rathe. “I think we can draw him out now. But, um…” Sara felt Rathe’s cheeks warming. _It has to be believable_. Great.

“I can make it easier. If you’d like,” offered Rathe.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Sara. She bit her lip, grateful that for anyone watching they could only see her from behind. She stroked Rathe’s cheek.

“If this goes sideways, or if you are fucking with me at all,” she whispered hoarsely, “I will kill you.”

“And I will want you to kill me,” Rathe agreed, eyes fluttering to avoid looking directly at Sara. “Should we call the team for back-up?”

“Not until Jack reveals himself. We don’t need a bigger audience.”

Rathe nodded in agreement.

Slowly Sara leaned in, kissing Rathe on the cheek. She slid her kisses towards Rathe’s mouth, kissing the corner of her mouth and then pressing her lips to Rathe’s. A hand slid across her jaw and down her neck, fingers teasing against the “v” at the top of her dress. Sara deepened her kisses, opening her mouth and allowing Rathe to explore with her tongue. The extravagant, faded casino décor disappeared. Sara felt the first time she’d kissed another woman, the first time she understood all those songs that played on the radio. The world felt…she couldn’t explain. It was a flavor never tasted, the memory of a place she’d never seen, possibilities hinted at suddenly revealed. Fields of dusty brown with vines turned into lush green and bundles of tiny, plump grapes. Blue skies with wispy white clouds that turned to grayish-green, a stormy sea that took down the Queen’s Gambit and nearly drowned her…

Hands roamed over Sara as the vision faded and she became aware of her own hands buried in Rathe’s hair. She pulled away abruptly, forcing Rathe to arm’s length.

“What was th—” Sara began.

Rathe flew sideways, striking her head hard against the wall and falling to the ground. An innocuous looking man stepped forward with a bland smile.

“I’m a doctor,” he said calmly. “You seem to need some assistance.” The world continued to tilt sideways from the kiss. Memory wrestled with the present, confusing Sara.

“Jack,” Sara managed, before he plunged a syringe into her neck and everything went dark.

*

Rathe’s head pounded. She pushed the headache aside and activated her comm.

“All team. Help. Jack’s got Sara.” Rathe slumped against the wall. Her entire left side ached with bruises. Ray arrived first.

“What happened?” he asked as he helped Rathe to standing.

“Sara and I set the trap for Jack,” said Rathe. “It worked, only he took me out before I could get help.”

Ray glanced around with a worried expression. “Must have gotten to Sara quick too. She didn’t say anything on comms.”

“I figured,” said Rathe grimly. “We need someone on the ship to triangulate her position.”

“Jax?” asked Ray. “Stein?”

“Working on it,” responded Profession Stein with his vaguely irritated air. “Ms. Lance appears to be…just down the hall from you.”

Ray and Rathe glanced down the hotel hallway. The numbered doors extended for at least one hundred yards.

“Can you be more specific?” asked Rathe.

Mick strolled up. “We find the guy yet? What’s his name? Jack?”

“Not exactly,” said Ray.

“Figures,” grunted Mick. “I was on a winning streak.”

“Alright,” said Professor Stein cutting in. “Ms. Lance appears to be approximately sixty feet ahead on your right.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Rathe.

The group moved forward, Ray monitoring progress with his watch. He gestured wildly as they approached the sixty foot mark.

Rathe gestured to Mick. Without fanfare he kicked in the door to Room 132. Ray entered with his ATOM suit weapons ready. An older couple screamed in surprise, reclined on the bed as the TV played.

“Oh,” said Ray. “We are. So. Sorry.”

The trio retreated, Ray and Rathe with red faces, Mick with a shrug.

“It’s nice to see old people in love,” he mused. “Gives one hope.” Ray stared at the fire enthusiast.

“Martin, were you sure about Sara’s location?” asked Rathe.

“Absolutely,” he said. “You appear to be right on top of her.”

“Professor, you’re wrong,” said Mick.

“Maybe not,” interrupted Ray. “This hotel has several floors,” he said pointing up. “She could be in any one above us and it would give the same location.”

“There must be a faster way,” said Professor Stein.

“Not unless you know the identity of Jack the Ripper,” said Ray.

“Well, we at least don’t need to walk in on any more Midwesterners,” said Rathe. “If she’s in a room I should be able to tell. I’ll just need a minute outside each.”

On the second floor, nothing. But on the third as they stood outside Room 334, Rathe sensed the energy that had encompassed her as they kissed. Drowning, fighting…Always fighting against something, the thing rising from the beneath the earth. Rathe shuddered.

“In here,” she said. _Still alive_.

Ray burst through the door, followed closely by Mick. Mick’s eyes glowed as he lit up his flame gun in warning. The man’s eyes opened wide. His aura was thoroughly, almost remarkable unremarkable. If not for Sara laying on the bed with a plastic sheet, completely nude and unconscious, Rathe would have been convinced this was the wrong room, the wrong guy. Mick swiped the doctor across the face, knocking him to the ground easily.

Rathe ran forward, covering Sara with a hotel blanket and rousing her with a burst of adrenaline-fueled energy.

“Captain,” said Ray, averting his eyes even though she was now covered.

Sara gazed about the blurred scene. “Get him to the ship,” she slurred.

*

Jack pounded against the clear walls of the brig but someone had thankfully turned the sound off. Rathe contemplated the would-be-killer with a neutral expression. He was no one. All that notoriety and he was nothing more than a sexually repressed, medially trained no one. Nothing. It was almost fitting his identity would never be known. She turned the sound up slowly.

“…return me to my practice at once!” he cried, eyes wide. Even in his rage he failed to inspire much fear. Possibly his secret. It was close to impossible to imagine this mundane human as a murderer. Rathe let him ramble until he paused for a breath.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you do it?”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said.

“But you want to. You’ve thought about it. What’s driving you?”

His face contorted horribly, the terrible ordinariness of it revealing the soulless mind that would drive him to commit atrocities.

“I’m a physician,” he implored. “I want to help humanity, make it better. There is so much we don’t know, and so much more we could become,” he said, eyes wide with the belief of a fanatic. “Progress requires sacrifice. I sacrifice only those that contribute nothing. It only seems fair...”

Rathe shut the sound off as he continued, watching impassively until he seemed to realize she was no longer listening. A series of curses, easily understand without sound, passed his lips. Sara approached, arms crossed. Jack lunged against the wall, gnashing at his prey. Sara smirked.

“What’s happening to Jack?” asked Rathe.

Sara turned. “Well I’d like to see him stew here for a while. But we should probably get him back to his time.”

“So he can murder innocent women?”

“We can’t change history to fit our beliefs,” said Sara firmly. She looked directly at Rathe. “No matter how much we may want to.”

“He’s no one,” said Rathe. “He doesn’t change history at all except to be a horror story to women.”

Sara sighed. “You knew our mission,” she said simply.

“If time is already messed up don’t we have an obligation to try and make it better? Why would you want to keep the same shitty history?”

“We don’t know if we’d be making it better,” said Sara. “In 2020 Jack the Ripper causes problems because of the political environment. In 1888, maybe something good comes from it that helps down the line. Maybe it triggers the police to develop new techniques that help prevent future murders.”

“So we’re just guessing?” asked Rathe. “All the time, we don’t know if our changes or the anomalies you created are good or bad.”

“We don’t,” said Sara.

“Then what’s the point?” said Rathe quietly.

“Life,” responded Sara. “The lives of everyone on this ship, their family, their friends. We owe them the world as it’s supposed to be.”

Rathe turned from Jack and gazed into the shimmering time stream.

 _She doesn’t have a family in this universe_. The thought hit Sara suddenly with a pang of sympathy. She thought about placing an arm over the alien’s shoulder, but given their recent…intimacy, that seemed ripe for misinterpretation. But even without the same family, the present would hold some family and friends. Someone Rathe knew and loved existed on this universe.

“Gideon,” said Sara. “Place Jack under sedation and plot a course for 2017. We’re going to make a stop in the present before dropping Ripper here off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: The World Spins Madly On by the Weepies


	4. Past, Present, Future

“Where to?” asked Sara. She realized with mild embarrassment she didn’t know where Rathe lived. “Where in 2017 is your pleasure?” She flushed at the unintended entendre, but fortunately Rathe didn’t seem to notice.

“National City I guess,” said Rathe.

“Earth-1 does not have a National City,” clarified Gideon, bringing up a map on the screen. “However, if you can approximate the location of your National City we can set coordinates.”

“Here,” said Rathe, pointing.

“Los Angeles,” said Sara slowly. “Crap.”

“Why crap?” Rathe’s eyes widened as the possibilities set in. “What happened?”

Sara put her hands up. “I don’t know. It’s been a while, maybe nothing is wrong anymore. But we first discovered the anomalies when we crash-landed in LA.”

Rathe narrowed her eyes. “What anomalies?”

 _Shit_. This plan to convince Rathe of the importance of maintaining an intransigent timeline wasn’t off to a great start.

“Dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs?”

“Yep.”

“Like…full on Jurassic-park style dinosaurs?”

Of course they had that movie on Earth-38. Sara had hoped to avoid the reference.

“It was a bit different,” Sara hedged.

“How so?”

“Well, they were just roaming about, it wasn’t like they broke out of cages.”

“Oh, that makes me feel a lot better,” responded Rathe sarcastically.

“Look, for all we know, it’s changed. Besides, if my family were there I’d want to make sure they were ok. This is a good opportunity.”

“My family isn’t there. They don’t exist in this universe.”

“If you’re half-human one parent does. And I bet Alex is there.”

Sara’s words hit like a kick to the gut. _Alex Danvers_.

“Fine,” said Rathe.

“Don’t worry,” Sara added. “Ray once got stuck in the Cretaceous period. He’s a pro with dinosaurs.”

*

The Waverider shuddered into place atop the CatCo headquarters. Well, it should have been the CatCo headquarters. In this universe, it was something else seeing as no one had apparently heard of Cat Grant. Only Sara, Rathe, Amaya, and Ray remained aboard, everyone else using the rare stopover in the present to catch up with friends and family in Central City.

Rathe glanced out the deck of the Waverider. It was National City…kind of. The familiar landscape was dotted with a number of unfamiliar landmarks and buildings in radically different styles, as if someone picked their way through a number of different decades in assembling the city. On the street below a few large dinosaurs roamed, their calls punctuated by the crushing metal of abandoned vehicles.

“Is the inconsistent architecture a feature of your universe or is more wrong with this scene than the fact that there are freaking dinosaurs?” asked Rathe.

Ray jogged out and observed the vista. “Yeah, there’s more than just one or two things off here,” he agreed.

“Oh gods,” breathed Rathe as a beast below let out a deep bellow that vibrated through the skyscraper. She wondered if she might vomit. Deep-seated unease rose from her core, infecting her limbs with a slight tremor. She pressed her fingers against her quick heart, seeking Alex, seeking strength and stillness.

“It will be ok,” said Amaya softly. “Who are we looking for?”

Rathe swallowed hard. “Alex Danvers.”

Amaya glanced at Ray.

“Right!” he said, pulling out a tablet from his ATOM suit.

“Alexandra?” he asked.

In spite of the dire situation, Rathe laughed. “She hates that name.”

“Ok, well then I think I found her,” confirmed Ray with a pleased grin. “Alexandra, excuse me, Alex Danvers is currently a scientist working with the iGene Corporation, specializing in genetic forensics.”

Ray nodded approvingly to his screen. “Very impressive resume. She lives nearby. Shall we?”

“We shall,” said Sara. “Everyone look sharp. Since this is where we landed first, it seems to have been the most impacted. There’s no telling what else we may run in to.”

The streets were littered with the wreckage of abandoned cars. Shattered glass, bumpers, and twisted metal. The boxy car frames that remained and rusting edges indicated it had been some time since anyone in LA did much driving. Periodically dinosaurs came into view a few blocks away. A surprisingly large population filled the streets, businesspeople in suits, pencil skirts, and briefcases, as well as others with long, tangled hair, ragged clothes and spears of wood and stone. The two disparate groups of human walked amongst each other with indifference, seemingly unaware of the different priorities held by the other group.

A beast roared, a horrible high-pitched scream, and the small group of Legends ducked under an awning advertising the best bagels in LA. A hoard of people in ragged suits crouched across the street, yelling indecipherable due to the distance, which only added to the sense of disorientation. The group across the street rose in a unit, zipping around the corner in pursuit of the dinosaur as they brandished a variety of weapons made from scrap metal.

“Who are these people?” asked Ray.

“They’re crazy,” said Sara.

“They’re devolving,” said Rathe.

The other three Legends turned to her.

“Look,” Rathe said, gesturing to the bizarrely mixed scene. “Some of these people are walking around as if it were 2017. Something happens and they move backwards. See how the clothing and hair is all in various states of abandon? As they devolve they seem to become more aware of the dinosaurs. Notice how the fully 2017 people don’t even seem to notice.”

It was true, Sara conceded. Those that wandered the streets fully clothed in everyday apparel listen to music, checked phones, and engaged in otherwise ordinary actions without regard to the prehistoric anomalies. Almost as if they didn’t see them.

“This is less an anomaly but more two times stacked on top of each other,” said Amaya.

“But we’re not impacted,” said Sara questioningly. “We can see both.”

“Not yet,” said Rathe. “But I have a feeling we don’t want to stick around 2017 for too long. Eventually the fractures will crack and everything will blend.”

“Then let’s move,” said Sara, standing. “Ray, how much further?” Ray pointed just down the street.

Alex’s apartment building stood shiny and new, a whitewashed version of the one Rathe knew. She squinted. It was the same. Exactly the same with one tiny exception.

“This building is brand new,” said Rathe.

“Yeah?” said Sara. “Lucky for your girlfriend to be able to afford new digs.”

Rathe shook her head. “It was built in 1975. It’s not just 2017 and prehistoric times we’re seeing. This suggests multiple time overlays…”

“We already know we’ve got problems,” said Sara. “Let’s move.”

Rathe’s feet moved automatically down the familiar hallways, knocking before she realized Alex would have no idea who she was. The door opened.

Alex’s large dark brown eyes took Rathe’s breath away. The skin around her eyes puffed in a clear indication of a recent cry. Alex held the door open, her hand grasping the door tightly for support. Waves of blue, tinted with burnt yellow like a blue sun. The smell of the ocean, cleaning solutions, the smooth feel of marble, and satisfaction of a good head scratch. This Alex was decidedly less guarded, more open and trusting than her Alex. Yet at their core they remained exactly the same. Generous, loving, and the most beautiful aura Rathe knew.

“Hi Al,” said Rathe. Alex’s mouth moved through a half-smile to half-frown, ending somewhere in the middle as her brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “A lot’s been going on. Do I know you?”

“In another lifetime,” said Rathe, not caring if Alex thought she was crazy, only wanting to draw this moment out, to stay in Alex’s presence a little bit longer.

Unexpectedly Alex reached for Rathe, pulling her in for a hug. Alex’s aura flooded Rathe’s senses, surrounding her and absorbing into her skin. Rathe offered her comfort, love, solace. She would have stayed there forever but for Sara’s loud throat clearing. Alex pulled back, leaving a wet spot against Rathe’s shirt.

“Would you like to come in?” asked Alex. “Your…friends can come in too,” she offered.

“Not much of a government agent,” Sara whispered as she passed Rathe.

“This version isn’t,” responded Rathe. This Alex’s openness was easily the biggest difference. Hugging a stranger she barely knew? Inviting a group of strangers into her apartment? Rathe suppressed a chuckle. Her Alex would have at best shut the door in their face, at worst pulled a gun after knocking at least one of them to the ground. It was endearing how naïve and trusting this Alex appeared in comparison.

Once inside, Alex-2 locked the door, latching a series of deadbolts that suggested someone a bit more paranoid than her manner would have led them to believe. She turned and smiled.

“So, who are all of you?”

*

Alex-2 stared in surprise at the white shag rug while the story sank in.

“The world…it’s not supposed to be like this?” she asked.

“No,” said Amaya gently. “But we’re here to fix it.”

“Well,” amended Ray, “to try.” Amaya shot him a dirty look.

“And you,” said Alex-2, turning to Rathe. “We knew each other in another universe? Like well?”

Rathe nodded. A lump rose in her throat. “I…I loved you,” she said. _I died for you_. And would again, she thought. In a heartbeat.

“Will I meet you in this universe? Or this life?” asked Alex-2.

Rathe shook her head, forgoing an explanation. Alex-2 had absorbed enough shocking revelations today without introducing aliens.

“You ended up with Maggie, Maggie Sawyer,” Rathe said. “You two are a wonderful couple.”

Alex’s wide eyes opened even further, filling and then overflowing with tears.

“What did I say?” asked Rathe helplessly.

Alex covered her nose and mouth as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Maggie,” she said.

Ray was already extracting the tablet. He read, but the grimace on his face gave it away.

“Maggie Sawyer, officer with LAPD. Killed in the line of duty as a mob of drug-addled vagrants attacked people at the Winter Street farmer’s market.” Ray turned the article to Rathe. The dual photos showed Maggie in her official police picture next to an image of the farmer’s market. Spiked tails half-obscured by the white tent tops with slash marks revealed the true culprit in the attack. The article was dated one week prior.

Rathe looked at Ray, confirming they were thinking the same thing. Alex-2 couldn’t see the dinosaurs.

“These fractures must work differently than we thought,” said Amaya, speaking for the room.

“If humans are truly devolving, becoming prehistoric then there should be evidence in their DNA.”

Alex-2 looked between the Legends. “What?” she asked helplessly.

Rathe moved closer and held Alex-2’s hands. “The reason things seem so off in this time is because there is another time period trying to break through. You can’t see the other timeline, only feel its effects.”

“But…but you can?”

“It seems so,” said Sara. “Unfortunately we have no good way to test it.”

“That’s not true,” said Ray. Everyone looked at him as he gestured towards the confused Alex. “We happen to have a genetics expert. Yay us.”

Sara let out a soft chuckle. “You up for it Danvers?”

Alex-2 took a deep breath. “What do you need?”

Rathe and Alex-2 headed out to iGene to secure a discrete lab space while Sara, Ray, and Amaya went in search of human subjects. One fully devolved and one in progress. Sara was grateful to be on the move. The science behind the plan was a bit fuzzy for her, but capturing test subjects she could manage.

“Good god, these people don’t even act human,” said Amaya in shock.

“Good,” said Sara. “That will make this a lot easier.”

They pounced on a group of people in transition from modern to prehistoric man. Sara spotted a portly man in a ripped suit without a weapon. She easily catapulted over the shoulders of one, striking her target on the temple. He tipped like a sleeping cow. The others in the group abandoned the straggler, more interested in making their escape.

“Ray, can you get this guy to the lab?” asked Sara.

“Sure thing, Cap.”

“Good. The full-on prehistoric people are going to be more challenging. Amaya, I’m gonna need your help.”

“How so?” asked Amaya.

“I heard about that dinosaur thing you did,” said Sara. “We need to draw them out.”

Amaya nodded. “I like it.”

Ray glanced between the two women. “So…you sure you’re going to be alright?’ he asked.

“Bet you wouldn’t ask that if we were two men,” Sara retorted.

“Right,” said Ray looking at the ground. “Well, this guy won’t be walking himself to the lab.”

Amaya chortled as he retreated. “He was just being nice.”

“Maybe,” said Sara, with a grin. “But it was fun. And a little warranted.”

The two crept around the corner. The fully devolved humans were going to be fun. No-holds-barred kind of action. Sara liked it. She gripped her baton tighter, testing her strength. Feeling good. Shadows slid against the building across the street. Sara nodded. Amaya closed her eyes briefly as she touched her necklace.

Before Sara’s eyes she seemed to grow in a glowing blue light, rising and expanding into the form of an enormous dinosaur. The light took solid form, blue changing to a muddy brown shade. The beast roared, rattling everything within a several mile radius and rendering Sara temporarily deaf. Amaya stalked forward into the center of the road, presumably roaring again, although Sara heard nothing, only saw the creature’s throat constrict and mouth open wide. She waited. Amaya waited as well. Nothing.

If a dinosaur could show disappointment that was what Sara saw. Sara was about to declare the ruse a failure when a spear sailed from behind Sara. _Impressive_. They moved quietly. Guess that’s how Nate felt all the time.

Amaya roared again, shifting form back to human and leaving only the echo. Sara spun in the direction of the spear in time to see a shadow slip over the wall. The barely-human moved with unreal speed. Sara launched herself onto the awning and up to the roof chasing the ghost. Finally reaching the flat rooftop the shadow she’d been chasing appeared to have vanished.

Sara paused. She felt in her gut that she’d cornered it. Carefully she circled the perimeter. There didn’t appear to be any side where he could have jumped safely. The large metal exhaust columns called to her, but she couldn’t approach too quickly. Instead she continued her methodical circle, allowing her vision to be obstructed briefly. Quickly she doubled back, rewarded by the sight of her prey in the act of fleeing.

Sara ran hard, tackling the lean, ragged man as they rolled. He bit and scratched, superficial wounds that Sara didn’t even feel thanks to her League training. It would be so easy to snap the neck, she thought, but they needed him alive. Or at least that was the goal. Faced with a feral human Sara felt the blood lust rising, the urge to take a life swelled as she placed her hands across the throat. Sara pressed as power flooded her body and the man beneath struggled less and less effectively.

Something shoved Sara from the side and she fell, rolling herself naturally into fighting posture. Amaya knelt over the man.

“You almost killed him,” Amaya admonished. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Sara found she was breathing hard. “He was a nasty little sucker,” she responded, thankful that the scratches on her arms backed up that story. Amaya sighed and turned her attention back to the creature, who was taking shallow breaths. Sara backed away, gazing over the LA vista, Amaya’s question rolling around her brain.

_What the hell were you thinking?_

*

Rathe watched Alex-2 move confidently around the lab, prepping each of the three stations and the western blot for analysis. Alex-2 turned and smiled.

“You’re staring,” she said.

Rathe smiled in return. “I know.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Alex-2 came closer, leaning against the lab bench beside Rathe. “What am I like in your universe?” Alex-2 asked. “Am I the same or…what?”

“There are decided similarities,” said Rathe, unable to look away from those warm eyes. “You’re a scientist.”

Alex-2 brightened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Rathe. “But you’re also a government agent. A real badass actually.”

“Wow, other me must be a lot cooler,” Alex-2 said laughing.

“Just different,” responded Rathe. “She didn’t figure out that she was gay for a long time. So she’s behind the curve in that respect.”

“How do you know I figured it out any sooner?” Alex-2 teased.

Rathe leaned in. “I’ve got an eye for it,” she said. Well, that and the short choppy hair and clothing style this Alex had finally embraced. It was a very attractive look, helped by the easy confidence of Alex-2 in herself.

Alex-2 opened her mouth to respond but Rathe’s comm interrupted.

“Outside,” said Ray. “A little help?”

Alex-2 carefully drew a sample from their first test subject and then herself. As she began to extract the DNA Sara and Amaya arrived carrying the final human.

“He may need restraints,” said Amaya, glancing at Sara for some reason. “He won’t be happy when he fully comes to.”

“I wouldn’t expect so,” said Alex-2 eying the bruises forming on his collarbone. “Why do you think I can see him?”

The group looked at each other, landing on Rathe.

“Maybe because we touched him?” Rathe speculated. Her mind whirred. If that was the case, then the Legends could potentially seal the time fractures. Some _thing_ was creating the displacement. Not being tethered to any one time, the Legends seemed to break the influence…

Alex-2 shrugged and efficiently drew a blood sample as the other Legends held the struggling human’s limbs in place, moving him to a more secure location immediately after. Rathe retreated to give Alex-2 space to work, trying to not stare but finding it hard to keep her eyes from wandering towards the doppelganger of the woman she’d loved on Earth-38. Her mind wandered between memories of her Alex and the theory that teased a possible solution to the issues she’d seen in 2017.

Sara sauntered in, brushing her hands with a satisfied air. She stood near Rathe, more openly watching Alex-2 as she hunched over the lab bench, carefully extracting clumps of DNA from each test tube.

“Gonna make a move?” said Sara.

Rathe ducked her head as her ears pinked. “Nah,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“She’s into you,” said Sara mischievously. “And obviously you’ve still got a thing…”

“Alex is in love with Maggie,” said Rathe firmly. “Not just that but a Maggie that died recently. I can’t compete with that.”

“Your loss,” said Sara quietly.

The machine whirred as the electrostatic charge separated the DNA into strands. Even without a science degree Sara could see the obvious differences.

“There is definitely a change,” said Alex-2 with interest. “The final subject is genetically related but could be classified as an entirely different sub-species.”

“I think they came into contact with something,” said Rathe. “There must be a point of commonality. A place, an object, something that is opening the connecting to prehistoric time.”

“What happens when we find it?” asked Ray.

“We shut it down,” said Sara. “Will that stop it?”

Rathe shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure, but it will prevent it from becoming worse.”

“Things have definitely gotten worse,” said Alex-2. “Lots of strange occurrences around town. Maggie said that too before…” Alex-2 fluttered her eyes and looked up. She cleared her throat.

“The papers always have an explanation but lately…”

“It doesn’t add up,” finished Rathe. Alex-2 nodded. “We are going to fix this,” said Rathe reaching for Alex-2.

“But you can’t bring Maggie back, can you?”

Rathe glanced at Sara who shook her head firmly. _No promises_.

“I will do everything I can to bring her back to you,” said Rathe, looking directly into Alex-2’s shimmering brown eyes.

Sara suppressed a groan.

“How about we focus on finding the source of the breach,” suggested Sara.

Alex-2 blinked, eyes widening. “I might have an idea,” she said. Alex-2 spun around to the computer conducting the analysis. Her fingers clicked quickly.

“There is a specific variation in the DNA of the prehistoric man that can be exploited,” Alex-2 said. “Essentially a gene that could be activated by the presence of a particular protein compound.”

“What would that do?” asked Amaya.

“Trigger something akin to an allergic reaction,” said Alex-2. “But it will make them easier to find and if you can communicate back to me, I can triangulate some kind of position. Hopefully,” she added.

In spite of herself Sara was impressed. “I like it,” she said. “Rathe will stay her and help you out as well as provide the communication link. The rest of us, to the streets. We need to report the location of anyone with a sudden rash or itch attack.”

Rathe mostly observed as Alex-2 quickly retrieved supplies from the cold room down the hall. Together they hauled the mixture to the roof to prepare for dispersion. Alex-2 took a nervous breath.

“Don’t worry,” said Rathe. “It will work.”

Alex-2 nodded, unconvinced but too nice to contradict. Rathe touched her shoulder, thinking of her Alex’s confidence, and sharing that energy. Alex-2 stared at Rathe in amazement. She radiated the exact same blue of a perfect summer day. Rathe let the aura flood her, filling her with the sense of Alex Danvers.

“You’re not human,” Alex-2 said breathlessly.

Rathe shook her head. “Let’s do this.”

Alex-2 twisted the nozzle on the oversized canister, tilting it back to the spray would go up, and stepped away. The air filled with droplets that smelled slightly of lab cleaner, but was otherwise innocuous. Rathe and Alex-2 backed up a few more steps to avoid the mist.

“Did it start?” asked Ray. “Cause I’ve got something but I’m not sure…”

“Yeah,” responded Rathe. “Location?”

Alex-2 opened her laptop and began dropping pins as Ray rattled off street names. The map filled with tiny red pins.

“Are you seeing this?” asked Alex-2. Viewed on the map the pins formed an almost perfect set of circles.

Rathe activated her comm. “Guys, we found it. I’m sending the location. Alex and I will meet you there.” Alex glanced at Rathe in surprise.

“Only…if you want,” amended Rathe. “I’m sorry, I forgot you may not want to go rushing into danger—”

“I do,” interrupted Alex-2. “As long as you’re there.” Rathe swallowed, hoping Alex-2 couldn’t hear her heart pounding.

The group convened outside the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History.

“Oh Lord,” breathed Ray. “How the heck are we going to narrow this down? There must be ten thousand objects in there.”

“Yes but it has to be something that could impact a large number of people,” said Rathe. “So not just any old thing.” She scanned the exterior. The time fractures shimmered in space, releasing brighter and darker auras, but one point in particular felt out of place. Rathe approached the crumbling structure, apparently the remains of an exterior statute vandals took. Except the vibe didn’t match at all. The group followed as she walked closer to examine the object.

The skeleton of the dinosaur had collapsed on itself and lay in a pile a few feet from the busy sidewalk and bus stop nearby. Alex-2 gasped as they approached.

“This is real!”

“Like, an actual dinosaur skeleton?” asked Sara. “Shouldn’t that be behind glass?”

“Exactly,” said Alex. “Real bones would be in an airtight, temperature-controlled chamber to preserve. This has always been a model.”

“Alright,” said Ray. “Step back.” He fired up the ATOM suit and shot two quick streams of blue light at the decaying figure. The beams of light vanished without appearing to even touch the bones.

“Don’t!” yelled Rathe. She stepped up to the misplaced objects, concentrating on returning their energy. The past fought, pressing through and seeping into the corners of her mind. _Luckily, Empathia are a race more ancient than anything on this earth_. She drew through her alien psyche, suppressing the human that wanted to regress. The skeleton glowed and heaved, expelling the last of its prehistoric energy and fading into the fake plastic sculpture Rathe remembered from National City.

The landscape changed in bits and pieces. Areas destroyed by roaming dinosaurs and human bands took on a clean, manicured look. Older buildings wore down and others aged back to 2017.

“Thank you!” said Alex-2, wrapping her arms around Rathe.

“Right,” said Ray to himself. “Thank the one who helpfully watched the whole thing.”

Rathe looked around at 2017, the Earth-1 version of 2017, and at Earth-1 Alex.

“I’m going to make it right,” she promised. “I’m going to make it better for you.”

*

Sara rubbed her eyes. What a day. She still couldn’t put into words what happened in front of the museum. As Rathe stared down the bones Sara had flown through the vacuum of space-time, a dark hole where life evolved from a single atom up to the wealth of flora and fauna on earth today. She’d seen herself, so small and insignificant, amongst the entire planet and within the circle of time. It was an…unnerving experience.

“Gideon, can you play me something relaxing?” asked Sara as she reclined onto her bed. She let her eyes close as Gideon dimmed the lights.

“Captain, may I make an inquiry?” asked Gideon.

“Sure,” said Sara with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Captain Hunter often came to me when he was feeling particularly stressed and I would offer him advice,” Gideon explained. “With your permission, I’d like to do the same. A ship is only as good as her captain after all.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Sara. She had a soft spot for the very literal AI than ran the Waverider.

“If I may put this delicately,” Gideon began. “It has been quite a while since you’ve been with anyone.”

“Gideon, I didn’t know you cared,” teased Sara.

“I only mention it because a healthy sex life is known to reduce stress and improve overall happiness…”

“Ok,” interrupted Sara, “enough of the birds and bees. Was there a point?”

“Yes Captain. I have detected certain interactions between yourself and Ms. Adler that suggest the two of you could be quite compatible. There does seem to be some mutual attraction.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you insist Captain. It was merely a suggestion.”

The music began and dim lights lowered further. Sara chuckled to herself. Gideon playing matchmaker, of all things. And with Rathe? The idea was too silly to consider. Sara lay in the dark, letting the ambient tones transport her far away. An image of Rathe, staring at Alex as they left intruded into her meditation. Sara rolled over, trying to clear her mind again. Even if she did like Rathe, and she was by no means conceding that point, how could she compete with Alex? With her memory? Trying to take the place of a love that Rathe could never be with? That was a battle in which Sara had no interest. A non-starter.

Sara frowned. Her internal dialogue felt like an echo. A replay of something. It hit her suddenly, herself taunting Rathe just a few hours prior.  

_Your loss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Blue by Troye Sivan feat. Alex Hope


	5. A Brief History of Time

“London, the year 1888,” announced Gideon as the bone-rattling jump completed and the Waverider descended. “Jack’s sedation has been stopped. You should have three hours until he wakes to get him situated properly in his time.”

“Thanks Gideon,” said Sara. The team dispersed quickly, leaving the main deck without making eye contact. It seemed no one was particularly interested in this mission, a rarity. Sara felt the same, but as captain she had an obligation to maintain the timeline. Even if that meant returning the world’s most notorious serial killer to the time and place where he would begin his campaign. Ray shuffled near the exit with a guilty look.

“Up for a spin in ye olde London?” asked Sara. Ray was a touch too cheery for her on an average day but this wasn’t a day to get choosy.

“Why not?” said Ray.

“Thanks,” said Sara.

“Hey, us Star City folk got to stick together.”

“You’re a dork,” said Sara with a smile.

Sara and Ray carried Jack between them, his limp arms slung over a shoulder apiece, feet dragging on the ground. Sara tried to keep his hand away from her, cringing at the thought of this monster touching her.

“I’m gonna need a shower after this,” she said.

“Agreed,” said Ray, “and a drink.”

Sara glanced at Ray. Dependable, cheerful Ray, willing to help her carry Jack the Ripper back to his medical residency when no one else would.

“That drink’s one me,” she said. “As soon as we drop this creep off.”

They left Jack sprawled across some couches in the resident’s break room of the hospital. With any luck he’d wake up in an hour and go about his usual routine, including the fun addition of a timeline-necessary, murderous spree. At least a dozen murders, not to mention the copycats, and the universal fear of all women to go out alone at night. A fear that would persist for hundreds more years. Sara felt nausea rising.

“How about that pint?” Sara asked, turning as they retraced their steps through the old academic medical center.

“Absolutely!” said Ray. Sara wondered how he always maintained the air of optimism. “The other guys are going to be jealous they missed out on an authentic pub experience!”

“I hope so,” said Sara. “Bunch of loafs.”

A Russian man in quiet consultation with a plain-looking doctor glanced up at her loud admonishment. Sara lowered her voice and the two men proceeded to walk the direction they’d left Jack. As Ray continued to chatter, Sara couldn’t help glancing back to see if the men would discover Jack. As if reading her mind, they turned into the lounge area where they’d dumped him. Sara grabbed Ray’s arm and walked a little bit faster. She wasn’t about to undergo questioning about leaving the drugged body of a medical student. Man, she really needed that drink.

*

The two men slipped into the room. Jack the Ripper lay where the Legends had deposited him, a bit of drool accumulating on corner of his mouth. The plain man inserted a needle into Jack’s arm. The lights on his thin metal headpiece, mostly obstructed by his hair, glowed for a second.

“Jack the Ripper,” he confirmed. His Russian partner might have smiled, it was difficult to tell under the heavy beard. They each gripped Jack’s shoulder as the plain man, known as Kieran Mallory, extracted the small orb from his pocket.

“Where to?” asked the thick Russian accent.

“To retrieve the greatest military mind the world has ever known,” Mallory responded. The orb lit up for just a second, and the three men vanished in a swirl of light that condensed into a single point where the orb had been, before flickering out entirely.

*

 Sara found herself enjoying the pint of real English beer more than she wanted to admit. She raised her glass, clinking with Ray, not for the first time.

“To the Legends,” he crowed.

“The Legends,” Sara echoed. Ray drained his glass and waved his hand, signaling for another round. Sara thought about stopping him but the need for a break took over. _Why not_? Ray deserved a break. They all did. Things were colossally fucked up and lately it seemed even more complicated with their new team member aboard. Sara knocked back a good amount of her fresh pint, not even glancing as a short older Englishman slid onto the stool beside her. He raised his glass towards Sara, and she, a hair beyond tipsy, obliged with a clink. Why the hell not? He seemed harmless. The stranger drank to their wordless toast, his Adam’s apple bobbing fiercely in his throat.

He swallowed. “Jacob Von Hogsflume,” he said, yelling over the din. Sara smiled, but did not reciprocate with her name.

“You’re a time traveler,” he said loudly.

Sara coughed as some ale went down the wrong direction. Ray leaned in.

“Sara, this guy bothering you?” he asked.

Sara shook her head.

“Two time travelers,” said Jacob in a pleased tone. Ray shot Sara a startled look. Jacob drained his pint and waved.

“Come with me, I’ve got something to show you.”

“Who are you?” said Sara.

“I told you, Jacob Von Hogsflume. Please come with me. I’ve been waiting a long time for one of you to find me.”

With more curiosity than anything, Sara and Ray followed the graying, slightly rotund man from the pub. He led them only a few blocks away, up the stairs to a modest tenement. As they ascended Sara sincerely hoped this Von Hogsflume character was as harmless as he appeared. The thin door closed behind them with a sickening sense of finality. _Oh god_. Both her and Ray were a little tipsy. She prayed this wasn’t a terrible idea. Hopefully the other Legends could continue on in the event they were never heard from again…

“I am from the future,” said Von Hogsflume. Sara blinked. That pint had gone right to this man’s head. He stood with a puffed-up, self-satisfied air that only accentuated the overall ridiculousness of his claim.

“I invented, well will invent, time travel in the year 2189.”

Ray snorted and burst into laughter.

“No offense,” said Sara, suppressing her own laughter. “But how can we trust you? You approach us at a pub, call us time travelers, and now say you’re the inventor of time travel.”

Von Hogsflume visibly deflated as his pronouncement failed to have the intended effect.

“I am!” he insisted. “See! I shall make you believe.” He retreated to an old wooden chest in the corner of the room. Carefully he opened the latch. An unnatural glow emanated from within and he reached, displaying something Sara had seen only once before. The ball of light was carefully suspended within a glass chamber. Red from one side, blue from another, constantly shifting, with a low hum that made the tips of Sara’s fingers vibrate.

“What is it?” she asked, sobering up immediately.

“A time drive,” he said, returning the ball of light to the heavy chest.

Ray glanced at Sara and Sara nodded.

Von Hogsflume beamed. “Now you see. I invented time travel. The greatest and worst creation of my life.”

“Why the worst?” asked Sara.

“The same reason any new technology is dangerous. It fell into the wrong hands.”

“Whose?” asked Ray.

“A man named Kieran Mallory. He stole the technology and disappeared. I went in search of him, but have since become stranded in this time. I sent a distress signal out more than two decades ago and I’ve been going to the pub every afternoon waiting for assistance.”

“So you need a ride back to 2189?” asked Sara.

“Lord, no,” replied Von Hogsflume. “2189 is the end of human life on earth. Kieran Mallory initiates a nuclear war that wipes planet earth of all human existence while he disappears. That’s why he must be found. You don’t know this?” said Von Hogsflume, as though this might trigger a latent memory.

“Dude, we’re from 2017,” said Ray. “This is far future stuff for us.”

Von Hogsflume couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“But you _are_ time travelers?” he asked. “How can you be from 2017 and time travelers?”

“It’s a funny story,” Ray began.

“It’s…a long story,” said Sara, cutting him off. “One we don’t really have time for at this juncture. If you don’t want a ride what do you want?”

“I want to stop Kieran Mallory and the time wave,” said Von Hogsflume. “It needs to happen before all of history becomes destabilized and collapses.”

“Whoa, whoa,” said Sara. “You are going to need to back way up. Kieran Mallory, sure, we’ve dealt with guys like him. But a time wave?”

“A couple months ago something happened.” Von Hogsflume began to move distractedly about the small apartment, pulling notes, texts, and newspaper articles onto the already cramped desk.

“I’ve been monitoring events in time from here and there have been huge, unexplained changes. But not just once, or even twice. Every day I can find something new. The only explanation is that some kind of temporal paradox has created a ripple in time.”

Sara and Ray looked at each other. Von Hogsflume sighed, mistaking the exchange for confusion.

“See, imagine time is a small pool of water. The paradox sends out waves, but when those waves reach the edge, they don’t just disappear.”

“They bounce back,” said Ray.

“Exactly,” confirmed Von Hogsflume. “Waves continue to arise from the site of the paradox but more and more will also be impacted by the returning ripple. Now, imagine there is no friction acting on the waves in this pool. What does that do?” said Von Hogsflume to Ray.

“It will make the time ripples larger and larger as more waves interact.”

Von Hogsflume nodded. “We only have a limited amount of time before the ripples create such instability that time can no longer support itself.”

“What happens then?” asked Sara.

“What else?” said Von Hogsflume. “The end of the world as we know it. Kieran Mallory will recreate history from start to finish. And not just our world, the collapse of time would impact worlds across the multiverse.”

“So that’s it?” asked Sara. “We’re just waiting for the world to end?”

“No,” said Von Hogsflume, “there is a solution. A way to reset the timeline and erase the paradox that created the time wave.”

“Alright.” Sara took a seat on a rickety wooden stool. “Tell us everything we need to know.”

*

“I was a young man when I met Kieran Mallory. We were assigned as roommates at Oxford. I admit, I thought he was a bit of an ass at first. This kid from a rich family studying history and philosophy? I had much more humble roots, the first person ever from my family to attend graduate school and at Oxford only thanks to a generous scholarship. I figured Kieran was like all the other rick kids, partying his way through school and pursuing graduate study more as a means to avoid getting a real job than anything else.”

“But Kieran was different. He was genuinely thoughtful and knowledgeable on a variety of subjects, including science. We engaged in rigorous debates and to my surprise I found he was a decent guy. At the time I truly believe he was,” added Von Hogsflume sadly.

“I studied theoretical applied physics, specifically the intersection of time and space. Interdimensionality. I regularly discussed challenges I faced with Kieran, so he too came to be quite knowledgeable on the subject. After graduating I went on to work for the university in a post-graduate position. Kieran joined his family, a prominent political dynasty. He’d always expressed apathy about his family’s expectations but in the end the pressure was too great. However, to keep himself ‘grounded’ – his word, not mine – he moved into a flat with me in London, were we continued much as we had at university.”

“My research progressed well, and within a few years I’d secured a research-professorship at Oxford. Kieran Mallory also did well and was moving rapidly through the political ranks. We drifted apart, as adults often do, each of us drawn deeper into our respective areas of focus. But when we did get the chance to catch up it was as if no time had passed. He was, is, one of my closest friends.”

Von Hogsflume sighed.

“So hopefully, this explains why, upon finally cracking the code to time, after discovering an element which had the ability to temporarily disable to flow of time – effectively time travel – Kieran Mallory was the first person I told. I was immersed in my research, and in the course of that and blinded by our friendship I had not followed his career closely. I wish I had. For then I might have been more circumspect. For then I would have known that in his years in political office he had taken at times some extreme positions.”

“But I did not know that, and so I shared with him my revelation that time travel was possible. He was ecstatic, which I attributed to our close friendship. But as the months passed it became clear there was more. He came around more often, inquired frequently and in intense detail about my progress, imploring me to take him to the lab. He began to discuss great minds in history, the possibilities for change. Creating a utopia, what that would entail and how one could possibly accomplish such a thing.”

“I may have been foolish to share the knowledge with him initially, but I was determined to prevent the technology from being used in the ways Kieran described. And so, without telling anyone, I traveled to 2142, the year in which myself and Kieran were born, and created an organization called the Time Masters.”

Between the beer and Von Hogsflume’s meandering story Sara was beginning to feel drowsy but her head snapped to attention at the mention of the Time Masters. Ray stared at Von Hogsflume with the wonder of a ten-year old hearing his first fireside ghost story.

“You’ve heard of them?” asked Von Hogsflume with a puff of pride. Sara and Ray nodded.

“Good. That means it worked.” He frowned, likely recalling his twenty-plus-year wait for assistance in the nineteenth century. “For a while anyway.” Von Hogsflume resumed his professorial air, relaying his story in the form of a lecture.

“I charged the Time Masters with protecting the timeline. I realized too late that this technology would be impossible to contain, but that any changes to the past could have dire repercussions on current and future events. The prime, the original timeline, needed to be kept as clean as possible. With the Time Masters, I created a safe space, outside of time in which they could operate and monitor the timeline without fear of making inadvertent changes.”

“The Vanishing Point,” said Ray with enthusiasm. “Yeah, we’ve been there.”

Von Hogsflume made a pained expression at the interruption.

“Sorry,” said Ray, making a zipping motion across his mouth.

“The Vanishing Point,” Von Hogsflume continued, “would be the Time Masters point of operation. They would preserve the timeline and keep the world safe from those such as Kieran Mallory.” He cleared his throat.

“It all seemed to work until a couple months ago. The time ripples became apparent and I knew the Time Masters had failed.”

“We know all this,” said Sara, ignoring Von Hogsflume’s dirty look. “The Time Masters are no more. The Legends are all you’ve got.”

Von Hogsflume looked skeptically from Sara to Ray. “Legends?”

“Yeah,” said Ray proudly. “We’re legends. Or we hope to be.”

“Right,” said Von Hogsflume. “Before you…’Legends’ came around, the Time Masters built a failsafe. A break-glass-only-in-case-of-emergency option.”

“Alright,” said Sara. “We’re all ears. What’s this last-ditch solution to our time wave?”

Von Hogsflume smiled distantly. “A code.”

Sara waited for further explanation, but for once Von Hogsflume failed to elaborate.

“And…?” Sara prompted.

He shrugged. “Part of the failsafe was that I knew very little about it. I couldn’t, lest Kieran Mallory draw that information from me. I know only that the Time Masters created a coded document and deposited it somewhere in the timeline.”

“That’s it?” asked Sara incredulously. “Somewhere in the timeline of all human history exists a coded document?!?! That’s not a needle in a haystack that’s a needle in a universe filled with haystacks!!”

“It had to be secure. As I said, it’s an extreme option, meant to trigger a full reset of the timeline. Everything starting over from day one.”

Sara felt the irritation rising. This pompous ass, who spent years researching time travel and didn’t even stop to consider the dangers it posed until _after_ its creation. Not to mention admitting that he was the one who shared the technology with this Kieran Mallory… Yet here he was, lecturing _them_ like delinquent high school students and expecting them to jump through all these ridiculous hoops as though they needed to learn a lesson. He knew more. Sara was sure of it.

Sara rose off the stool and thrust her hand into Von Hogsflume’s neck, lifting his feet a few inches off the ground in a stranglehold.

“I don’t believe you,” she hissed. “Maybe you don’t know the whole story, but I think you know more than you’re letting on. If you actually want us to help you fix time you better tell us everything you know about this document.”

Sara dropped Von Hogsflume. He fell inelegantly, coughing and grasping at his throat. He tossed Ray a pleading glance but Ray just shrugged.

“She’s the boss, man. And I’m kind of inclined to believe you know a bit more as well.”

Unexpectedly Von Hogsflume let out a choked laugh. “I guess it’s true what they say about your time period,” he said hoarsely. “It really is the dark age of the modern era.”

“Stuff the crap,” said Sara. “The code. How do we find it and how does it work?”

Von Hogsflume rubbed his throat. “I really don’t know the whole story,” he insisted.

Sara raised a fist.

“But, but!!!” Von Hogsflume said, hands over his head as he lay on the floor. “I may have deduced a few things I’d be willing to share.”

Sara lowered her fist. “Outstanding.”

Von Hogsflume pushed himself to a seated position, sliding back to lean against the wall for support.

“This is all speculation,” he said. “I truly had to remain ignorant of how the Time Masters set up to failsafe.” He cleared his throat, voice returning to its normal pitch.

“It’s meant to be an unbreakable code, one written in a language that doesn’t exist anywhere in our past or future. Once translated, the code should direct the reader to certain events the Time Masters embedded in history.”

Von Hogsflume coughed. Sara and Ray studied him impassively.

“You may know,” Von Hogsflume continued, “some of the world’s greatest mysteries. Stonehenge, the pyramids, I could go on… They aren’t just mysteries because we are not clever enough to solve them. They are mysteries because they were created by people that exist outside of the standard timeline. Because they were put in place by Time Masters.”

He looked at Sara and Ray. “Do you follow?”

“Find the document, decode it, and travel to a bunch of weird times in history,” said Sara skeptically.

“Unsolvable quandaries,” Von Hogsflume corrected. “I believe certain ones are manned by retired Time Masters, those that stayed to help the guardians of time. They hold the key to resetting the timeline if you know how to find them.”

“And how do we find this document?” asked Sara.

“It will not be simple,” Von Hogsflume said. “The best I can suggest is to search your historical records for a code never cracked. And hope you get lucky.”

He extracted a few orbs from his old wooden chest of modern wonders. “In case you are required to split your group before time collapses. These orbs can be programmed to return you to a time stable place such as your time ship while allowing anyone making contact with the orb to travel to a set destination. I have no means to program them here and suspect at my age that I am no longer fit for rigorous time travel. But I feel better knowing they are being used to help maintain order.”

“Awesome,” said Ray, rotating an orb between his hands.

“One last thing,” said Sara as she eyed the smooth time orb. “Resetting time. What exactly does that mean?”

Von Hogsflume shifted uncomfortably. “The reset will replicate the timeline, while eliminating the loop that created the paradox. Much like cutting off a loose string on a sweater.”

“What about us? We’ll know it happened.”

“You won’t actually,” said Von Hogsflume. “You will be reset to the place after the paradox. All memories of your time and activities from the paradox loop will be lost.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” said Ray. “We’re still ourselves, right?”

“A version of yourself,” responded Von Hogsflume.

Sara considered the carefully worded response. She already felt like a shell of the person she used to be. What more could she possibly lose?

*

The city felt especially small and smelly after the odd excursion into Von Hogsflume’s world. Sara rolled two of the small orbs around the palm of her hand, centering herself for the new mission. A coded document hidden somewhere in time. Coded instructions, a treasure map. A map that would lead to yet more places scattered throughout time, to find people or things…that had been unclear, something, that would hit the ultimate restart button on the universe. _Sure._ Assuming Von Hogsflume wasn’t full of hogwash, what could go wrong?

The cobblestones ahead split as an enormous airliner crashed into the street. Nearby apartments went up in flames as arid ash filled the street. Sara placed a handkerchief across her mouth and nose to filter the toxic fumes. Engines roared overhead, as more airplanes flew by from some future time, causing chaos, death, and destruction to the past.

Sara focused on the cool orbs. At this point they had no choice. It was a matter of trusting Von Hogsflume and maybe fixing the world or slowly watching everything fall to pieces as the timeline collapsed.

A vaguely familiar face peered down the street at the crash. He turned away with a smile. Sara shuddered. This time was apparently full of sadistic assholes. She was a block away before it occurred to her – he’d seen the time fracture. He was also a time traveler. Sara glanced back but the robed man had vanished by the time she realized why he looked familiar. He’d been at the hospital. The one following her and Ray. Sara’s gut twisted as she grew more and more certain who she’d seen, smiling as thousands of people from the future crashed into a poor tenement in 1888. If Von Hogsflume could be believed, there existed only one person outside of the Time Masters with time travel technology. Kieran Mallory. Sara quickened her step. They had to find out where, and when, he was going next.

“How was dropping off the serial killer?” asked Rathe in a snarky tone as Sara and Ray strode aboard the Waverider.

Sara opened her mouth in surprise. Between Von Hogsflume and the new mission Sara had forgotten the original reason for landing in 1888.

“Enlightening,” said Sara. “We learned how to stop the anomalies and reset time.” She enjoyed the stunned surprise that swept over Rathe’s features, a being so rarely caught off guard.

“Yep,” said Sara walking away. “Turns out you missed a lot by sitting this one out.”

She let her bedroom door click satisfyingly shut behind her, the image of Rathe still standing in the hall, mouth agape, making her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Time Machine by Robyn


	6. The Greatest

Sara reclined on the bed, swiping her finger in the air to indicate when Gideon should show her the next article on Kieran Mallory. The ceiling screen confirmed her suspicion. The man she’d seen in the street, the one that had been in the hospital, was none other than Kieran Mallory. Von Hogsflume had been honest about that much at least. Although he certainly downplayed their later friendship, Sara thought, as image after image depicted the two of them grinning at successively more extravagant galas.

_What are you up to, you little creep?_

Something didn’t totally add up. Kieran Mallory was already in a position of power in 2189 and apparently used that power to destroy everything. Intentionally. And now he appeared to be following the Legends. Sara needed a historian’s mind.

Nate sat in the library tapping a book arrhythmically as he read.

“Captain?” he inquired.

Sara sat. “A hypothetical scenario,” she said. Nate straightened his posture with interest. “Say you were a wannabe dictator from the future, and believed yourself to be the sole person in possession of time travel. What would you do?”

“Am I evil?” asked Nate, rubbing his fingers together.

“You’re…fanatical,” offered Sara.

“Hmm,” thought Nate aloud. “Well, I’d probably want to fix some of the biggest blunders in history. Smooth things over, create a world that would naturally want or require me to lead it.”

This was good. That made sense.

“How would you do that?” Sara asked.

Nate looked skeptically at Sara. “What’s this about?”

“Answer the question then I’ll tell you.”

“Alright,” Nate said gamely. “Well, I’m not so cocky to think I’m the smartest guy in the world. Step one would be to surround myself with a strong team. And if I could time travel…”

“You’d get the brightest minds in history,” finished Sara.

“Basically. Now pay up. I want in.”

“Fair enough.”

Not wanting to repeat the story six times, Sara called the entire team into the library. Carefully she recounted the tale told by Von Hogsflume, adding in her own theories about Kieran Mallory. After she finished the room fell silent with the weight of new information.

“So now what?” asked Amaya, always the first to get to the point.

“First, I’d like to find this Kieran Mallory. He saw us in 1888 and almost certainly knows we’re time travelers, which means without the Time Masters we’re his last remaining threat. It also seems likely he has been behind some of the time quakes we’ve seen since we created the ripple. We can’t risk him following and sabotaging the failsafe.”

“Fantastic,” said Nate. “Just one problem. We have no idea where he is.”

“Except we do,” said Sara. “Your time quake machine is tuned to identify man-made alternations to the timeline. Anything that’s not us, has to be him. And we have a recent hit in ancient Greece.”

“Wait,” said Rathe. “Shouldn’t we be more concerned with the collapsing timeline? If we can do a reset, Kieran Mallory is irrelevant.”

“Not if he shuts down the reset,” argued Sara.

“Still,” replied Rathe. “Maybe we split this up.”

“We do have those time orbs Hogsflume gave us,” said Ray. The rest of the Legends turned to Ray for further explanation. He waved, holding two orbs in each hand. “With these we could run four teams of two. Could move a lot faster that way.”

“And expose ourselves to a lot more risk,” said Sara. She rubbed her temples. “Ok. We will divvy this up, but only into two groups. Nate, Martin, Jax, and Amaya, you’re on code duty. Ray will get you an orb with the coordinates you need. Everyone else is with me.”

“And where are we going?” Rathe crossed her arms petulantly. Tone ostensibly neutral but face filled with challenge.

“Ancient Greece,” said Sara. “Might want to brush up on your reflexes. We already know those chicken arms won’t take anybody down.”

*

The Waverider lurched to a stop, auras and sensations slipping sideways before righting themselves again. Rathe shook her head. Definitely the longest jump yet. She glanced at the time clock over the back of the main cabin. 323 B.C. Stiffly Rathe stood. This time period was not going to be pretty. Maybe she could get some heavy-duty armor fabricated. That and stay close to Mick.

As she waited for the fabrication machine Rathe considered what this reset would mean for her. Everyone else emanated a clear sense of relief, a way to right their critical mistake and get back on track. And what a neat and tidy solution to their problems as well, complete with a way for them to forget this rough time. There was just one problem from Rathe’s perspective… The Time Masters hadn’t accounted for multiverse-jumpers that happened into this timeline after the paradox.

It was fitting in a way, Rathe thought as she pulled on a linen tunic. She should be dead anyway. Was dead. Earth-1 had been a cheat. Now it seemed she would be destined to spend her time on Earth-1 ensuring she that she really, truly did die across the multiverse. Rathe kicked off her shoes a bit harder than necessary, knocking one against her locker door. She felt the eyes of others, not wanting to watch her but trying to discretely observe. Rathe controlled her breathing, lowering her blood pressure and pushing the frustration down deep. Maybe it didn’t work that way. Maybe the reset would somehow preserve her life on Earth-1, but one in which she never met the Legends. All things considered that would be an improvement on her current situation.

Rathe expected a pounding heat but the outside summer air was pleasantly warm, even slightly cool. The smell of fruit trees in flower filled the air. The world looked visibly younger, even the dirt seemed to radiate with excitement at the newness of the world. It was almost shocking when ordinary people appeared over the horizon, a military train led by horses and carriages of supplies, surrounded on all sides by foot soldiers.

Soundlessly Sara blended into the foliage while the other Legends followed, more noisily. The troops marched by, easily in perfect step, relaxed but alert. Rathe held her breathe, finally exhaling as she began to see spots in her vision. The soldiers continued their march past, clanking armor thankfully much louder than her abrupt exhalation.

“How long is this going to take?” whispered Rathe.

Sara gave her a funny look. “Got somewhere else to be?”

Rathe rolled her eyes and shifted to keep her legs from cramping. As the military train wound down, Sara nodded and indicated for others to follow. She crept further into the brush, emerging on the road a hundred feet behind a group of stragglers that followed the train.

Rathe took advantage of the long walk to look around, marveling at the fresh energy and raw untouched nature of this world. Her skin vibrated with excitement and awe. Sara blended into the crowd of stragglers, moving forward for a better view. A city of gleaming white stone rose ahead, the front of the train already inside its gates. Sara fixed her eyes on their destination. The commander would return home tonight. They had to find Alexander the Great before his generals poisoned him and before Kieran Mallory could take him from this timeline.

The Legends followed the parade through the gates of the celebrating city. The carriages had already vanished, returning food to their stores and adding wealth and treasure to the capitol’s bank. Alexander himself sat in a place of honor at the top of a large plaza in the center of the city. His soldiers occupied the upper stairs closest to his perch, while the common folk and the merely curious took the lower steps. Through the din, his voice was barely audible. The Legends separated as each sought a better vantage point. Rathe slipped between the crowd, working her way around the left side of the plaza until she finally obtained a clear look at the legendary commander.

He was fair and ruddy in complexion, striking but not quite attractive in appearance. As he rotated towards Rathe’s side of the plaza his blue eye appeared to fix directly on her, while the other, dark brown eye took in the entire scope of his admirers. Sara yanked her arm abruptly, pulling Rathe from her reverie on Alexander’s striking mosaic eyes.

“You’re going to get us caught,” said Sara. “I can see you slinking around from across the plaza!”

“I know how to get in,” Rathe responded. She just needed to be a little bit closer…

The two wound their way up the edge of the stairs, just outside the troop formation. Alexander continued his speech, promising his military men prompt payment that evening and with fanfare, announcing another campaign to follow. The troops whooped with excitement, while the generals exchanged looks. Alexander appeared to not notice the generals, preferring to focus his attention on the cheering crowd. His blue eye once again caught Rathe and hesitated on her for just half a second before finishing his speech with a raunchy toast. As he finished, Alexander spoke softly to one of his servants. Rathe smiled.

“Any second now,” she breathed to the restless Sara. The servant approached and bowed.

“Alexander the Great, requests your presence at dinner,” he said directing his attention to Rathe. Sara’s jaw dropped slightly.

“We accept,” said Rathe. The servant bowed again and indicated they should follow. Alexander spoke in a low tone to one of his generals. Sara and Rathe waited to the side. Alexander glanced up, smiling at Rathe.

“What’s going on?” asked Sara. “Did you thrall him or something?”

“Not exactly,” said Rathe. “Consider it a kindred spirit connection.” Alexander parted ways with his general. The bland, short-haired man turned away.

“That’s him,” said Sara and Rathe at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise, mouths open.

Alexander approached with the gracious air of man who knew he was doing a great favor and kissed each of them on the hand.

“Such lovely ladies,” he said, with far more charm than Rathe would have expected from his appearance. “I would love to share in your conversation over dinner. It has been too long since I dined amongst my people.”

Alexander appeared taken by Rathe’s eyes, his gaze wandering repeated from pupil to pupil with open curiosity.

“Your general,” said Rathe. “Who is he?”

Alexander glanced back with disinterest. “A nobleman recent to my ranks. He looks to prove himself in my next campaign. In fact, it was he that suggested I continue on,” he added.

“He goes by the name Kieran Mallory,” said Sara. “His intentions are not true.” Rathe glanced quickly at Sara. Did she know he was the same person she’d seen in Alsace?

Alexander appeared surprised by the outburst but proceeded with good humor. “And yet he has just informed me of a plan by several of my other generals to have me killed,” he said. “Tell me, how do I reconcile this difference of opinion?”

Alexander eyed them with interest, pausing on Rathe.

“What is your gift,” he said with just the barest hint of questioning. “There are not many like us.” Sara studiously avoided looking at Rathe as her mind whirred with Alexander the Great and Rathe possibly had in common.

“Some call me a seer,” said Rathe.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Well,” she began. Alexander waved his hands.

“And not the usual flattery,” he said. “The truth.” He peered intently into her shifting eyes.

“Are you sure?”

The great leader nodded. Rathe reached with her psyche, noting his dueling energy with a thrill.

“The setting sun, beams of gold and blood red, the scent of drying blood, sweet wines, scarcely aged before enjoyed.” Her mouth felt dry. The loss wasn’t premonition but a love left behind. His pain scratching the hard scab that Rathe had built over her own loss.

 She opened her eyes fully, absorbing Alexander, not the great, but the man. Stripped of his title and riches. He was indeed great, but not great enough. His greatness ended when he lost his heart in battle. The poison wouldn’t matter in the end. He carried a death wish, the will to fight until he too perished in a field of blood just as his love had.

“You see more,” Alexander pressed, his charming air showing signs of strain. Sara glanced at Rathe with concern. It wasn’t like the alien to show reluctance with her gift. Rathe appeared agitated and Sara grew aware of how many of Alexander’s guards surrounded them. Even with League training she couldn’t take out more than a half dozen before they would be cut down.

Sara touched Rathe gently on the shoulder, trying to communicate some kind of calm.

“My friend is hungry,” Sara said pointedly. “We haven’t eaten today.”

“Of course,” said Alexander, “once your associate finishes we shall retire.”

Rathe struggled to control her breathing. She reached for Alexander’s hand, kneeling and placing the hand to her forehead. The move appeared to placate Alexander. Rathe stood and stepped in very close to Alexander.

Quietly, so only the commander could hear she finished. “Your love awaits, but dying sooner will bring him no joy,” Rathe said.

Alexander’s mask of authority dropped for a microsecond and in that instant, he was just a man.

“Thank you,” he said. He turned to the group and in a booming voice called for the feast.

Alexander led them up the stairs of the plaza, through the large columns and into the grand palace at the top overlooking the city. Rathe gazed with wonder into the night sky, filled with thousands of times more stars than the modern world. The city below vanished into the complete night, the occasion torch or other fire appearing like dim land-based stars.

Sara sat beside Alexander and Rathe next to Sara. The seat to Alexander’s right remained open as servants poured wine. Kieran Mallory sauntered up to the chair, smiling as he recognized the other guests at the commander’s end of the table.

“We meet again,” said Mallory.

Alexander’s interest appeared piqued. “Friends?” he inquired.

“Not yet,” said Mallory, raising his goblet to the Legends. “But I hope to be.”

“And why is that?” asked Alexander. “As my newest general it’s only fair you should offer me some insight into your mind so I can better assess the value I attach to your regiment.”

Mallory sized Alexander up with a pleased expression. “You and I are evidence that sometimes the greatest things are not apparent from appearance.”

“How do you mean?” Alexander’s tone held a slight edge.

“Yourself, the greatest military commander this world has ever known or will know. And me, the greatest…” Mallory smiled. “Well, time, as they say, will tell. Yes, ladies?”

Sara rolled her eyes.

“And what do you think?” asked Alexander of the two women. “You seem unconvinced.”

“There is no such thing,” said Sara firmly. “We adapt to what we need to be. No one is greater than any other.”

“You can’t possibly believe that,” responded Mallory. “In all societies, in all times, there are always those who rise to the top.”

“Luck and circumstance,” Sara replied. “Given the right combination, it could be anyone.”

“What do you think commander? Would you have the ability to conquer the world in any time? Or is that limited to the circumstances in which we find ourselves today?”

Alexander eyes Sara with interest. “It’s a provocative statement,” he said. “One most of my generals would hesitate to voice. You are lucky for your sex that I do not take offense to your thought experiment.”

Alexander raised a goblet of wine. “Let us drink and dine. Today is about celebration. Tomorrow we venture into philosophy.”

Servants poured from the interior of the palace, bringing huge platters of meat and jugs of wine around in a near-constant buffet. They ate the rustic but delicious food with gusto. Rathe hadn’t realized how wonderfully savory real food tasted. The fabrication machine produced passable imitations of ordinary food, but it lacked something, some element intrinsic to real food. The difference was astonishing. The wine in particular, brought Rathe back to early childhood. These varieties, like none she’d tasted, were probably all extinct or mutated into new varietals by the twentieth century. She savored every glass, possibly having a bit too much given her recent abstinence.

Sara too relaxed. For time travel this was about as safe and content as she could hope for. Rathe’s eyes shone gold like a cat in the flickering firelight. Her short hair swooped upwards with a rakish tilt, subtle curves of her body just visible in the shape of the tunic. Rathe’s mouth moved silently as she spoke to the dinner companion to her other side, body language shifting dramatically, hands forming and twisting shapes in the air like a sorcerer.

“May I at least have the pleasure of your name?” asked Mallory, earlier tension forgotten.

“Sara Lance.”

Mallory started visibly and looked at Sara’s golden hair with a strange expression. He smiled oddly.

“I expected a man,” he said. “And someone a bit older perhaps…”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sara.

“The Golden Lance that guards time,” said Mallory. “The Time Masters, well, we always knew they could be defeated. But the Golden Lance…” He shook his head. “That was the ultimate guardian. The one that would stand when all other measures fell. I always assumed it to be a myth.”

“Guess you were myth-taken,” responded Rathe, jumping in with a smirk. Sara snorted. Rathe felt a sudden wave of ice cold fury, the stabbing of a thousand pins that sobered her up instantly. Mallory’s face betrayed nothing of his inner fury. Rathe ducked her head, meaning to warn Sara but fell out of her chair as a deafening boom rocked the foundation of the stone city.

Between the ringing in her ears and dust in her eyes, the world vanished into a swirl of confusion, colored and flavored by the experiences of hundreds of medieval soldiers from a dozen prior battles. Blood, dirt, the bite of steel, and raw adrenaline flooded her senses. Mallory’s cold aura sensed opportunity, lunging towards Sara’s previous location. Rathe clasped onto the ghostly pale of Sara’s energy, pulling them away from the sturdy table and towards the safety of the mobilizing masses. Somehow Alexander was already with the army, shouting commands that impressively carried over the din. The ringing faded as Rathe and Sara wound their way through the militia.

“Feelings!”

Mick marched ahead. He stepped out of the stream and gestured.

“Kieran Mallory is here,” said Rathe. “He’s trying to get Sara.”

“Get in,” Mick grunted. He forced his way back into the troop, making way for Rathe and Sara in front.

The momentum easily carried them out the palace and through the city. Burning huts and crumbled stone lined the main boulevard, leaving no real exit from the stream of fighters. The gate loomed large, the sounds of screams and clanking metal just beyond. They were going to war.

Outside the gate sporadic fires lit the way but otherwise all was dark save for what could be seen by starlight. The melee began almost immediately upon passing through the city’s stone wall, ranks dissolving into hand to hand combat with their opponent.

Rathe squinted into the darkness. Unarmored peasants, farmers, shepherds charged at the well-organized and armed militia. None carried real weapons and nearly all were struck down before inflicting any damage, yet they kept coming, thousands of them, from across the surrounding land. Rathe’s heart turned to stone, she fell to one knee as the militia slaughtered their innocent, possessed countrymen. Sara raised the daggers from her boot and Mick pulled a gun, but a touch from Rathe stopped them. Rathe shook her head gently and somehow, without a word the two Legends understood.

Abruptly Sara spun, using the heel of the dagger to strike a soldier under the chin, knocking him out cold. She whipped her fists and feet through the air, disarming and incapacitating as many of Alexander’s men as she could. Rathe tried to dim the sound of the battlefield, calming her heart as best she could while focusing on calming energy.

Fail.

Gods, the battlefield was nerve-wracking. Rathe ducked a frying pan, slipping in the blood that soaked the wet ground. Sara spun again, striking the frying pan wielding matron. She dropped to one knee beside Rathe, pulling her off the ground. Rathe trembled with fear. This was the wrong time to go soft, there were just so many of them, so many dying…

Ignoring the urge to stand and fight Sara paused, and pulled Rathe close into a deep hug, trying to remind her of Alsace and the way she’d been able to save lives there.

The groans of the dying, scent of men wetting themselves, and sour stench of vomit faded into a perfect calm hovering over a misty lake. Rathe exhaled serenity, feeling the easy flow of a fight one knew they would win, the sure confidence Sara carried in every encounter. Calm rippled across the field in waves as Rathe inhaled and exhaled against Sara’s chest. Soldiers dropped their weapons, eyes half-lidded as both sides came to a standstill in a moment of perfect serenity.

Sara felt the world turning on its axis, the pull of gravity into the earth, and the ambient energy wafting off every person and thing within sight. Her hard shell vanished as her soul filled with a wealth of human experience and emotion not felt since…well since her resurrection. Tears choked her while Rathe, now the one in control, breathed deeply, warmly in Sara’s arms. It may have been seconds or eons that passed on that battlefield.

Rathe opened her eyes slowly so as to not yield control. Two full moons remained focused on Sara, who roughly wiped an arm over her face.

“I can’t hold much longer,” said Rathe quietly. Sara gazed across the field. Alexander, fortunately still mounted was only a hundred yards away. Sara ran, waving her arms. She felt Rathe’s influence fading as she moved away from something close to a deep sleep to restless still.

“Call them off!” said Sara, muddy and out of breath. The troops began to move as the energy expended.

“These people are unarmed and not in control!” Sara cried, reaching for the horse’s reins.

Alexander gave her a stunned expression. “They attacked!” he yelled, pulling the reins from Sara. Sara resisted the urge to kill him there. It would be so easy to drive the dagger into his leg, slicing the femoral artery… but then the army would never retreat. It would be chaos until all the villagers outside the walls were dead. Movement caught the corner of her eye. Nearly invisible in her dark clothing, Rathe ran across the field.

“Ah fuck it,” said Sara. This asshole died anyway. They all would. This would all be rewritten without the paradox that caused the villagers to attack.

Swiftly, Sara flicked the dagger in a single motion, up, then across. Alexander let out a choking noise. Blood began to seep immediately down his leg and through the fingers that clenched his gut. He raised his sword, but Sara had already slit the horse’s neck, and his steed collapsed, dropping him to the ground. Sara disappeared through the soldiers, doubling back after making certain no one was following. The soldiers in Alexander’s vicinity had stopped fighting, attempting to tend to their fallen commander. Even if he could survive the stab wounds though, Sara knew there was no overcoming the poison on the edge of the dagger.

She scanned the field for Rathe, but the sneaky alien had disappeared into the darkness beyond the fires near the fighting. A sick feeling in her gut grew, the fear that radiated off Rathe in the midst of battle.

 _Focus, focus_.

Rathe was calling, Sara knew it implicitly. She was shit at actual fighting and about to get herself killed no doubt. Son of a bitch, where could she be? Sara blinked. She was fairly certain that fire hadn’t been there a minute ago. Without another thought, she ran. Sara sprinted past the small burning hut and nearly tumbled over Rathe, locked in some bizarre psychic combat with a dark-bearded man in heavy clothes. The two separated, both breathing heavily. The bearded mystic rolled his eyes back in his head and Rathe reached forward, eyes closed in a concentrated, meditative movement.

 _I can end this now_.

Sara strode up to the mystic, executing a sharp uppercut. The Russian crumpled to the ground. Rathe stopped her contorting, opening her eyes.

“Is it over?” Rathe asked.

“Just about,” said Sara. She shook her head. “Thousands of them killed. What was he doing?”

“Possession,” said Rathe. “Same as the people in Alsace. The ones he made dance.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Last time he was also with Kieran Mallory. I suspect he’s acting on instructions.”

The Russian twitched. Sara struck him on the head again and he stilled.

“Well, if he’s an accomplice of Mallory’s then he’s coming with us,” Sara said. She pressed her comm. “We’re ready to go. Meet us outside the city.”

“What about Alexander?” asked Rathe.

“In this timeline? He’s been dealt with.”

“Right,” said Rathe.” She wasn’t sure why Sara’s ruthlessness still caught her so off guard. That she could contain so much anger and so much calm, centered energy never ceased to astonish Rathe.

“I guess we need to figure out who this guy is,” said Sara. “Get a better idea what Mallory is up to.”

“Collecting the greats, weren’t you listening?”

“Alright hot shot, what’s this guy’s greatness?” teased Sara.

The Waverider glowed into sight, a welcome respite from the brutal scene of death and destruction a few hundred yards away. Mick sauntered into view from the battle.

“Everyone stopped,” he said. “I got bored.”

“Good timing,” said Sara. She pointed to the Russian. “Little help?”

Mick grunted and heaved the unconscious body over his shoulder. He hiked up the ramp with a final stare at the fires across the field.

The low firelight emphasized the gold of Sara’s hair. Dirt and blood stained Rathe’s face and clothes. Probably hers as well, Sara reflected. Rathe looked so tired, so sad. Sara tried to imagine how her empathic expenditure must feel.

“We should take a shower and go to bed,” Sara said. The memory of Rathe’s skin as they embraced came to her unbidden as she realized her error. “Showers. Separate showers and separate beds,” she clarified quickly. “In two different places.” She was thankful for the dark as color surged hotly up her neck.

In the moment, she’d only wanted to calm Rathe so she could help control the mob mentality of the fight. But they’d held on so long…what had she revealed to Rathe? What did Rathe know? Sara cleared her throat. Goddamn Gideon planting thoughts in her head. Finding she had nothing in particular to say, Sara opted for silence, and turned and strode up the ramp to the Waverider.

Rathe stared into the dim embers of the hut for a few seconds longer. She shouldn’t have had so much to drink. It made her sloppy, unfocused. If Sara hadn’t grabbed her when she did… Rathe probed the memory from a safe distance. Something in Sara had unlocked more power than Rathe had ever exerted. That same connection had allowed her to call Sara when she was in trouble. Rathe glanced at the empty ramp briefly before boarding the time ship. Whatever had happened here, would hopefully remain a forgotten piece of ancient history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: War Paint by Fletcher


	7. Sinking 'Script

“How was ancient Greece?” asked Nate as Sara and Rathe joined the other Legends in the kitchen. Sara patted down her wet hair with a towel.

“Oh you know, lavish feasts, bloody battles…Really all a girl could hope for out of time travel,” joked Sara.

“I’m so jealous!” said Ray. “How did I end up a blacksmith’s apprentice the whole time??”

“Because you said, ‘Gee that looks fun!’ and volunteered,” replied Mick. “I got to light stuff on fire.”

“It was actually pretty cool,” Ray conceded. “I made a dagger!” He pulled out a blunt-looking knife. “Sort of. I didn’t finish my training.”

“Outstanding,” said Sara with a wry expression. “In the meantime, we picked up one of Kieran Mallory’s associates.”

“Oh, so that’s why Grigori Rasputin is in the brig?” said Nate pointing back towards the holding cells.

“You know who that guy is?” said Sara.

“Yeah. He’s crazy weird. Oh, and basically caused the political situation that led to the Russian Revolution,” added Nate with a laugh. “He’s kind of a big deal to understanding Russian history.”

“Like, good or bad big deal?” asked Sara. Nate could be such a nerd sometimes.

“Like, super bad,” said Nate. “He was believed to have all kinds of mystical powers.” Sara grimaced. That part unfortunately seemed to be true. “And according to several reliable accounts, he was poisoned, shot three times, including in the head, but only died after they threw his body into a freezing river. Hypothermia,” Nate explained. “The man was basically unkillable.”

“And now he’s sitting in our brig,” said Rathe. “Fantastic.”

Nate shrugged. “Maybe we drop him off back in his time? They will kill him.” He frowned. “There are a lot of theories about that actually…”

“Or we keep him,” suggested Rathe. “Why not? He knows Mallory’s plans. And we know there is at least one more ‘greatest’ in that crew. It’s our chance to find of who. And why.”

Sara considered the idea. “We keep him for the time being,” she concluded. “Mallory is too much of a loose cannon. And I’ll feel better knowing Mallory doesn’t have an unkillable mystic on his team.” Especially one that could make people dance until they died or rush into battle with no weapons. Sara shuddered.  

“Now, looking forward,” Sara said, a bit louder than strictly necessary. “Nate, I hope your team being back means you found something regarding our mystery document.”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Professor Stein. “You see, Mr. Heywood had the idea that we should travel to World War II—”

“It’s the birthplace of modern cryptology,” interrupted Nate. “Virtually anything involving codes probably came from that era.”

“Be that as it may,” continued Professor Stein, “we were not able to discern any document that the ace British intelligence team we joined could not crack.”

“They were extremely impressive,” agreed Nate. “I may need to revise my sophomore year paper to give more credit to the folks that intercepted and interpreted intelligence. It really turned the tide.”

Professor Stein nodded his agreement.

Sara shook her head in bafflement. “So, you’ve got nothing.”

“Not quite,” said Nate.

“Nothing, not quite,” repeated Sara. “So, there is something?”

“Mmmmm,” he hedged.

“I will knock your teeth in while you sleep,” threatened Sara.

“Alright, this is a bit of a stretch,” said Nate. “There was this woman, the only woman, brilliant, but very quiet, always sat alone at lunch. One day, I managed to get her to open up and she shows me these pages and says it’s an unbreakable code.”

“And…?” asked Sara.

“And what?” responded Nate blankly.

“And is it? And if so why didn’t you bring it back?”

“It is unbreakable, at least as of the end of World War II. And we didn’t bring it back because she had copies of just a few pages. And it was unclear if this was the type of code you meant.”

“Why is that?” asked Sara.

“It’s rather long.”

“How long?”

“Two hundred and forty pages,” said Nate, grimacing.

“Shit,” said Sara, hands falling to her side. “Fine. Von Hogsflume promised us it wouldn’t be easy. Where can we get ahold of this?”

Nate jumped over to his laptop, typing quickly. “They call it the Voynich manuscript. No one is sure where it came from, which makes sense if the Time Masters created it. But we know for certain that this rare books dealer, Wilfred Voynich, acquired the manuscript in 1912.”

“Then 1912 is where we shall go,” said Sara. “I’ll have Gideon track a location on this Wilfred Voynich.”

She glanced at Rathe, still pale from their last mission. “We’ll do a quick sleep cycle then jump.” The other Legends nodded their agreement and exited the kitchen, leaving just Sara, Rathe, and Mick.

Mick took a swig of beer then glared between Sara and Rathe.

“I don’t know what’s going on here but it’s not very relaxing,” he grumbled, standing and taking another swig. “I’ll be in my bunk.” The door swung silently shut as the cloud of tension between Rathe and Sara descended more heavily.

“There’s no need to wait,” said Rathe with a touch of irritation.

Sara shook her head. “You need to decompress. I don’t know what exactly you did out there, but I can tell you’re wiped.”

“Well I don’t need sleep,” responded Rathe shortly, spinning out of her seat to leave. Without thinking Sara grabbed her arm, pulling Rathe in close, noses only inches apart. Rathe’s breath tasted of the scorched meat and sweet wine they’d consumed at Alexander’s feast. Desire rushed through Sara’s blood. The seed planted by Gideon continued to grow. The lives lost on the battle field meant nothing, Sara reminded herself. None of this meant anything. Every choice here was temporary, no regrets possible.

Rathe pulled away with a gasp. “What are you doing?”

Sara felt her heart beating slow and steady, powerfully pushing the blood through her body. _Alive_.

“I want to feel,” she said, leaning in again. Her lips brushed Rathe’s cheeks. A tornado of emotion, the experience of all humanity, even stronger than what she’d felt on the battlefield rushed through her blood. It was intoxicating, more so than any liquor Sara had ever consumed. A pure high. She willed Rathe to feel some kind of arousal, to reciprocate in some way.

“You don’t even like me.” Rathe whispered, despite them being the only two in the room.

Sara smiled. “I didn’t take you for a romantic. I want to feel something. You want someone close. Sometimes two people can give each other what they need, no strings attached.”

Rathe’s heart beat faster as the proposition sunk in. She longed for touch, that was true. Earth-1 was so lonely. Her silver eyes met Sara’s light blue ones.

“Are you sure?” Rathe asked. She sounded drunk, her tongue dry and awkward in her mouth. “You’re just feeling my, um, excess energy.” Sara felt her need, Rathe realized with embarrassment. Though Sara almost certainly lacked the emotional language to interpret it.

“That’s all I want,” said Sara.

It should have been an easy refusal but the idea, once introduced, stubbornly took root, tempting Rathe with its simple elegance. She needed an outlet to maintain empathic control. Alex Danvers, _her_ Alex, would never leave her earth, would never be with Rathe. Whatever she did with Sara would be an arrangement of convenience, nothing more.

Rathe swallowed. “Fine,” she said, too aware of how warm her breath must feel on Sara’s face. “But let’s be clear: this is a one-time thing. Lights off. No talking. And I won’t be sleeping over.”

“Works for me,” said Sara, chest warming in anticipation.

Rathe waited alone in the kitchen for two minutes before heading to Sara’s room. The door opened quietly. Lights were already off and the interior was pitch black. A warm body pressed her into the wall, shutting the door quickly and placing a mouth against her neck, moving to her cheek and finally making contact with her own mouth. They stumbled across the room, Rathe tripping backwards onto the bed, Sara landing on top.

The complete dark lent a dreamlike atmosphere to the encounter. Fabric crumpled and vanished, hands roamed through hair and across the ridges of a face without actually seeing. Rathe’s skin vibrated as the energy flowed between and across their skin. Her hand wandered down, finding the soft wetness that she craved. The warm, well-muscled body arched into her with a suppressed moan, reversing direction to wrap arms, legs, and head entirely around Rathe like a cocoon. Together they rocked, breathing heavily into each other’s necks, heat rising between their bodies.

Sara’s limbs twitched as she fought the rising urge. _Hold on_. She squeezed her legs against Rathe’s thigh as the pressure mounted. Stars and planets swooped past, colors swirled against the back of her eyelids. Sara felt as if every neuron in her brain were firing all at once in a great cacophony of music so beautiful she could taste it. Her body clenched with all its might, filled with nothing but primal need. Sara shuddered violently as the spinning world reached its peak, pausing for a microsecond at the pinnacle, views extending for thousands of miles in every direction, with scarcely a chance to take it in before plummeting back to the ground.

Sara disentangled her sweaty limbs, feeling slightly woozy. Over the sound of blood rushing in her ears she heard Rathe move from the bed and begin to rummage around on the floor for her clothes. Rathe cursed under her breath as something tumbled across the floor. Sara turned on a lamp. The soft light broke the gentle spell. Sara quickly pulled up a sheet to cover her nakedness while Rathe ducked below the bed frame and hastily dressed, neither one looking directly at the other. With a practiced move, Rathe ran her fingers through her hair twice, smoothing the disarray and returning it to its usual coif. Sara stared at the wall as Rathe finished dressing, marking her exit by the quiet snap of the door latch.

Sara laid down on the messy bed, room inhaling the scent of recent arousal.

“Gideon?” said Sara.

“Yes, Captain Lance?” responded the artificial intelligence.

Sara let out a deep satisfied breath. “You were right. I do feel better.”

“I’m so glad to have been of assistance Captain Lance. I have determined the location of Wilfred Voynich in the year 1912.”

“Hit me.”

“Due to changes in the timeline, it appears shortly after acquiring the manuscript he endeavors to bring it to New York City for examination by several code experts.”

“New York,” said Sara, “I like it.”

“Unfortunately,” Gideon continued, “his chosen method of transport is the RMS Titanic. Both Voynich and the manuscript will be lost when the ship sinks in the Atlantic.”

“Guess we know what to do,” said Sara, head still buzzing pleasantly. “Plot a course. We’ll jump shortly.”

Sara slept soundly and without dreams for the first time in years, waking to find the lamp still on. The other Legends, including Rathe, appeared to be awake so Sara sounded the jump bell and plotted out their coordinates. The Legends entered and took their customary seats, chatting idly.

“I hope everyone in here has seen _Titanic_ ,” warned Sara.

“Oh crap,” groaned Mick. Sara grinned and pulled the lever before anyone else could start complaining. Sara didn’t typically like rom-coms, but had a soft spot for _Titanic_ , in part because Laurel liked the movie so much. Seeing _Titanic_ seven times in the theater had been one of the rare times Sara got to hang out with Laurel as a child. Her older sister had been so cool, but often too busy with her friends to spend time with a whiny younger sister. Truthfully, Sara probably spent more of the film, watching her big sister than the big screen.

*

Jax and Professor Stein opted to stay behind and work on ship repairs and updates. The other Legends headed for the docks in Queenstown, Ireland to at least see the infamous ship in its few days of floating glory. The excitement at the pier was palpable, and the ship, true to its name was enormous. Sara stared at the sparkling new vessel.

“You know they say it was the biggest ship ever built,” commented Ray, “but it’s really hard to imagine until you’re seeing it.”

“Yeah,” breathed Sara. Hard to believe that in just four days this behemoth would be at the bottom of the ocean. And most of the passengers excitedly boarding, full of hope for a new life, would be dead. Sara swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? The mission was the manuscript, not these doomed souls. Sara leaned over the guardrail. She felt almost sick with emotion.

Sara strode over to Rathe, who had chosen this mission to cross-dress again, looking sharp in her three-piece suit and slicked-back hair.

“What did you do to me?” Sara asked in a low voice.

“Excuse me?” asked Rathe, eyes wide.

“Last night,” said Sara as quietly as possible. “I feel…I can’t control all this…” Sara waved her arms, at a loss for words.

Rathe appeared alarmed. “I told you there would be some…side effects. But it shouldn’t be making you feel any different now. You should feel normal.”

_Normal_. So, this was how it felt to be fully alive again. It was like an itch beneath her skin, a tickle from a giant centipede, impossible to stop and distractingly everywhere at once.

A whistle blew. “Final call for all ticketed passengers!!”

Ray held Sara by the shoulders. “Bon voyage, Captain,” he said. “We’ll be waiting for your call in the Waverider.”

“Thanks Ray.” Sara took Rathe’s arm as Nate took Amaya’s, and the foursome ascended the gangway and onto the giant ship.

“I’m kind of jealous,” said Ray as the chosen team ascended. “I’ve always wanted to do that ‘king of the world’ thing.”

Mick snorted. “You’re a dork. That movie sucks.”

“But you knew I was referencing it!” said Ray as Mick walked away. “You knew!”

*

Sara followed the flow of the passengers to the top deck. The ship bellowed once, twice, thrillingly, as it slowly moved away from the shore. Sara shivered with excitement. Masses of people enthusiastically waved from the shore, many there just for the spectacle. Despite knowing no one and never having been to Queenstown in her life, Sara waved back. The enormous ship crawled away from the pier. As they passed the final buoys marking the harbor, the engines rumbled to life and the boat picked up speed.

Rathe stared out at the ocean, visible only in profile, hat low to block the late morning sun. A train of white foam trailed the _Titanic_ as far as one could see and the shoreline had already vanished into the haze on the horizon.

“Nate and Amaya went to the room,” said Rathe, the implication clear. That was fine. It was a beautiful day and Sara was more interested than she wanted to admit in touring the famous ship. Rathe continued to stare over the railing.

“You alright?” asked Sara.

“Yeah,” said Rathe. “Just never seen this much water.”

“You’ve never been to the ocean?”

“No.”

“Hm,” said Sara, unsure what to say or if it would be considered rude to just leave.

“Easy to forget it’s most of the earth,” said Rathe without prompting. “Most of the world is water, and yet we’re almost never out of sight of land. Kind of gives one perspective on how narrow our view of the world is.” Her eyes appeared tinged with gold in the bright sun.

“Sure,” said Sara edging away, curiosity overcoming any concern for leaving Rathe for a few hours. “I’m just gonna take a look around…”

Gratefully she retreated, cutting through an interior hallway to the other side of the boat. People, mostly in couples, passed by also marveling at the large ship and elaborate decor. Sara circled the deck to orient herself, pick up a few items, and then descended to the lower levels. Voynich had a second class ticket, so his room had to be on one of the top few floors. As Sara moved into third class the architecture underwent a decided change. The rooms and hallways cramped, forcing people to slide against each other when passing. With everyone in good spirits it wasn’t too difficult but Sara could see the space becoming a problem. She found their room number, and after a loud warning knock, entered. Fortunately, Nate and Amaya had pulled the sheet up after their activities. Nate placed a finger over his mouth and with his other hand pointed to the sleeping Amaya.

“No time to waste,” said Sara loudly. She tossed their clothes onto the bed. “We need to find Voynich as soon as possible and get off this ship.”

“Right,” said Nate, sitting up as Amaya blinked away the sleep.

“Where’s Rathe?” asked Amaya as she pulled on a shirt.

“Thinking deep thoughts,” said Sara sarcastically. Nate and Amaya exchanged a look as though Sara had just made an inside joke.

“What?” asked Sara.

“It’s nothing,” said Amaya with a smile. “Do we have a room number for Voynich?”

“Nope,” said Sara. She pulled a sailor’s uniform from her bag. “But I’m hoping Nate can get that for us.”

“Oh sweet!” he said.

Sara and Amaya continued their tour of the ship, with particular attention to the famous great staircase. Discretely Amaya pointed out some of the notable persons on board while Sara explained the phenomenon that the Titanic movie would be in the future. Nate strode by in his sailor’s uniform, waving goofily at his companions until a large, overdressed woman approached with a question. Nate pointed to three different doors in a panic, quickly leaving as the woman huffed about declining service.

The childhood dream come to life of being a sailor was proving less than glamourous for Nate. He’d always imagined more a pirate ship than ocean liner. These people were incessant with their questions, and having a relatively poor sense of direction was not serving him well on this oversized vessel. He’d managed to pass through the great room twice, luckily the girls only spotted him once so he passed it off as intentional. Nate turned yet another identical corner.

Balls. More rooms. Well-dressed men and women strode past. He bumped into several before realizing the expectation was that he would move. It slowed progress considerably to press against the wall every time a passenger appeared. On the plus side, it provided Nate with more time to consider his direction when approaching each juncture. He needed to get back to the edge of the ship. The workstations would be located there, hopefully complete with a passenger’s manifest. A slim woman with a yappy dog zipped around the corner. Nate flung himself into the wall as she passed without a glance, dog endeavoring to snap at Nate’s pantleg. A waft of salt water followed in her wake. Nate eagerly followed the smell of the ocean, blinking in the bright sun as he finally emerged onto the wide deck.

Other sailors marched purposefully around, twisting rope and adjusting levers and gears. Nate slunk close to the cabins, praying no one would call him over to help. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice the very-out-of-place sailor. Up ahead, a room with glass windows on all sides contained several men that Nate recognized from old books. The ship’s captain, architect, and main financer appeared engrossed in conversation. A younger man sat just in view of the window, hunched over a telegraph machine.

The three titans concluded their conversation, leaving the captain and communications expert alone in the command center. After another minute the sailor manning the telegraph stood and stretched, leaving the captain alone.

“Hey sailor!” called a voice. Nate ignored it and walked into the command center, confidently taking a seat at the telegraph station. The captain barely glanced over, keeping his gaze fixed out at the churning water. Nate’s heart pounded as he tried to not stare or fiddle with the soon-to-be priceless machine.

“I’ll be out on the bow,” said the captain unexpectedly. Nate jumped. “Alert me if any dispatches come in from New York.”

“Aye aye,” said Nate. The captain gave him a strange look.

“I mean, yes sir,” corrected Nate in a serious voice. He rubbed damp palms against his white slacks. The captain turned. _Alone_. Nate stood quickly, then sat, remembering the 360 degree windows through which anyone could see him. _Act nonchalant._ He leaned back casually. Too much. _Act serious._ His eyes roved over the drawers near the captain’s station. Where would one store the manifest? He scooched his chair across the room, opening drawers just enough to see what they held. The fourth yielded a leather-bound folder filled with passenger names, rooms, and items in storage.

“Jackpot,” said Nate. He frowned. Solo missions sucked when there was no one to get excited with him. Quickly he flipped pages, scanning the manifest for Voynich.

“Gotcha,” he said to himself.

“What are you doing?” asked a voice. Nate fumbled with the manifest, nearly dropping the dozens of pages on the floor.

“I…”

The sailor appeared only slightly older than Nate, expression stern. He probably had no idea how the telegraph worked. Nate cleared his throat.

“Captain is on the bow, sir,” he said. “I received a message for a passenger and needed to determine a room number to pass along.” Hopefully this guy had no idea how the telegraph protocol worked. Nate wasn’t entirely sure himself.

The older sailor considered and seemed to find it best to stay out of the matter.

“Carry on, sailor,” he said, shutting the door as he left.

Nate let out a deep breath and hurriedly replaced the papers and folder. The telegraph sputtered to life and before anyone else could approach and ask him to interpret the message, he bolted.

*

“I’d better keep an eye on Nate,” Amaya said and her and Sara marveled at the elaborate carvings in the great room. “He’s passed through here twice and clearly has no idea where he’s going.”

“I release you,” said Sara with a dramatic gesture. As Amaya retreated after her helpless boyfriend, a wave of loneliness swept over Sara. This huge ship, epic setting, and no one around. Granted, if all went according to plan they would be off the ship by night, but still. An invisible string pulled Sara. She resisted briefly before allowing it to tug her on an aimless path across the boat. Rathe leaned where Sara had left her more than an hour ago against the port-side railing. Sara chuckled to herself. _Of course_. She sidled up beside the half-human.

“Does the ocean continue to amaze?” Sara asked. Rathe turned her head, intense golden-tinged eyes causing Sara to stare a second too long.

“It does.” The invisible string tugged Sara’s torso, urging her back to the empty room. Sara’s hand unwittingly brushed Rathe’s. Dizziness blurred her vision.

“I’m feeling a bit seasick…” Sara said.

“Do you need help?” asked Rathe with concern, circling an arm around Sara’s shoulders. Sara breathed heavily, letting her weight fall into Rathe. Her chest compressed, as if all the air had been sucked from the world. Sara felt her skin tingle, with the promise of energy if only the clothes between them could disappear.

_Shit_. One night of sex and it was all Sara could think about. Nate would need some time to find the manifest. Amaya was busy watching Nate. Their room would be empty…

“Come back to the room with me,” said Sara, unable to meet Rathe’s eyes. She felt a nose brush against the crook of her neck and inhale deeply.

In the room, they fumbled to remove the cumbersome clothing and Rathe’s chest wrap, falling against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Sara held Rathe’s arms in place as her mouth roamed, nipping and licking at soft skin until Rathe let out a guttural moan. Color exploded through Sara’s skin, filling her vision and flowing from every limb. Her heart slowed as they lay for a minute on the carpeted cabin floor. Sara dressed quickly.

“So, what is this?” asked Rathe, distractingly bare-skinned and not bothering to cover herself as she watched Sara.

“Just evening the ledger,” said Sara. “Still a one-time thing. I don’t think either of us wants more.”

“No,” agreed Rathe. She watched Sara pull her top on and smooth out her hair. The golden curls swayed as she shook her head.

“Help me put the chest wrap back on?” asked Rathe.

Of course, Sara thought with relief. Rathe couldn’t get dressed until she bound her breasts again.

“Sure.”

Both dressed, the cabin felt much too small to wait. At Rathe’s suggestion, they joined other couples out on the deck for the late afternoon tea. Despite tea being open only to first and second class passengers, Rathe simply introduced herself to the host, pressing a palm into his, and suddenly they earned top tier treatment.

Silk tablecloths decorated the small tables for two. Tuxedoed waiters circulated the special event deck with silver platters of finger sandwiches and biscuits, while others took orders for cocktails, coffee, or tea. The sun shone red just above the water, clouds along the horizon tinged with oranges and pinks. A small band played in the corner, tune mixing pleasantly with the sound of the waves and gentle chatter of nearby conversation.

“You really know how to treat a lady right,” said Sara.

“Just evening the ledger,” responded Rathe as she poured each of them a cup of fresh-brewed Earl Grey. The subtle bergamot aroma soothed any lingering nerves. Sara leaned back, allowing herself to just enjoy the experience. Maybe after retrieving the manuscript they could hang out onboard for another day. They would still have plenty of time before the iceberg. Maybe they could warn the crew, avoid the disaster entirely within this small time loop.

Hot tea sloshed out of Sara’s hand as the giant ship lurched and metal screamed. People in their eveningwear toppled from chairs and tables flipped, spilling biscuits across the deck. Sara jumped to her feet and sprinted to the edge, already knowing what she would see. Ocean water rushed into the jagged tear in the side of the boat, already beginning to list.

“It’s too early,” said Rathe, knuckles white against the railing.

“Someone wanted to make sure we didn’t have time,” Sara said grimly. _Or that we would go down with the ship_. A flash of light, barely visible against the reflection of the setting sun on the water, spotted Sara’s vision. The metal hull of the ship sheered in another high-pitched scream.

Sara grabbed Rathe’s hand, yelling over the rushing water and stomping of passengers on the deck. “We have to find Voynich and get that manuscript before this thing goes down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Desire by Years & Years feat. Tove Lo


	8. Rage in the Machine

Rathe followed Sara back to the room, running through the narrow interior corridors as quickly as possible. Surprisingly few people in the ship seemed inclined to panic, most joking about engine trouble and the delay it would pose to the trip. Rathe fed from the sense of normalcy, doing her best to spread an energy of calm alertness for when the inevitable news arrived. They ran into Nate and Amaya in the hallway outside the room.

“Was that what I think?” asked Nate obliquely, nervously glancing at nearby passengers.

“Let’s just say the iceberg came early,” said Sara. “Tell me you found Voynich’s room because we’ve only got a few hours.”

Nate nodded and the group followed him up the stairs.

“Room 228,” yelled Nate as they reached the second class platform. Above the third class floors, the panic was palpable. From here the sound of rushing water couldn’t be denied, and several passengers that had attended the open deck tea had seen the gash in the ship. Passengers knocked the group in the shoulders, all trying to get out to the deck and away from the closed cabins.

Nate burst through the door to room 228 breathlessly. The slight bespectacled man turned with alarm from an open chest filled with books.

“You’re here,” said Nate in surprise.

“Is it true what they say?” Voynich asked, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Is the ship going down?”

Nate bit his lip with uncertainty and looked at the other Legends.

“If I tell you the answer to that,” he said, “can I have one of your books?”

“Excuse me?” asked Voynich. The floor tilted and righted. “Please leave my room. I have things to pack.”

Sara pushed Nate out of the way. “You have a manuscript you acquired,” she said. “One with symbols and pictures. We are its rightful owners.”

The rare book dealer appeared affronted. “Why on earth should I believe you?” he yelled. He hugged an old text to his chest.

Sara lunged forward, past Voynich to the abandoned desk. She tore a page from a book lying out and scrawled a symbol, flipping the page so the offended Englishman could see.

“May I take a look?” Rathe asked.

Voynich turned, eyes wide towards the lithe young man with shining green and purple eyes. He released the clutched manuscript from his chest, instinctively trusting this being. Rathe held the worn book carefully, flipping its pages with patient wonder. She let her hand hoover just above the pages, taking in the mystical energy, a quilt of times and meaning, breathtaking in its beauty.

“This is it,” she said softly. Only someone like the Time Masters could have created something that emanated auras of so many different places.

“You know that symbol,” Rathe added, nodding towards Sara’s drawing.

“Yes,” he said, unable to draw his gaze from Rathe’s eyes. “The man who sold me the manuscript was scarred with that mark.” His eyes raised from Rathe’s with fear.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Guardians of time,” said Sara. “Right now, that’s us.” Reluctantly Rathe released the enchanted book, handing it to Sara. Voynich watched with an expression of longing, but made no move to reclaim the faded pages.

“Dude, this boat is going down,” said Nate. “I’d grab your favorites and go get in a lifeboat.”

Voynich’s already wide open eyes opened even further, whites fully surrounding the dark irises. He grabbed a handful of tomes without looking and dashed from the room. The ship shuddered again, lights flickering before falling dark. Amaya reached for her totem, calling the spirit of an owl and led the other Legends through the darkened hallways, now nearly abandoned.

On the deck the sun had dropped below the horizon, leaving a dim yellow-green twilit sunset. Passengers and crew alike appeared to have no idea where to go, milling about with unease and occasional shouting, interrupted as the failing boat creaked and groaned. The Legends cut through, searching for an unoccupied portion of the deck.

“Ray, we need a pick-up and fast,” said Sara, head down so as not to attract attention. “Titanic is on her way down. We have the manuscript.”

“Right away, cap. Tell me where.”

“That part is proving tricky,” Sara muttered.

“If we can get a lifeboat the Waverider can pick us up on the water,” Nate said in a loud whisper.

“But we’d be taking a boat away from potential survivors,” said Amaya.

“What do you want?” said Nate voice sounding high-pitched. “There’s no deck space for us to make a discrete getaway on the boat. And these people are doomed anyway.”

“That’s awfully cynical,” responded Amaya. Nate opened his mouth to respond.

“Not the time for a lover’s spat,” said Sara. “We’re getting a lifeboat. Rathe, do what you need to convince them to give us one.”

Rathe’s eyes flicked about, silver in the thickening eve, seeking someone who might have some authority. Mostly empty boats dropped to the water as crew hastily tried to load and lower without thought, barely remembered emergency protocols overwhelming common sense. Rathe placed a hand on the shoulder of one sailor in the process of lowering a completely empty boat. He paused and calmed as the Legends clambered aboard, Rathe maintaining steady contact as each of her three companions boarded.

“Thank you,” she said, preparing to step in. A large shoulder struck her in the back, tipping her towards the railing. With sickening certainty, the force propelled her feet into the air and she flipped, airborne as the dark waves rushed to meet her. The icy water knocked the air from her lungs. She kicked and floundered as the cold water pulled her down further, managing to knock off heavy shoes and the now-useless dinner jacket and vest. Chest burning, she broke through the surface and inhaled painfully. Freezing salt water smacked Rathe in the face. The deepening dark made it difficult to tell where the other Legends might be, assuming they had made it into the lifeboat and down to the water. Slowly stiffening limbs struggled to move away from the broken ship that creaked with warning. Rathe coughed as another wave washed more salt water into her mouth. Titanic groaned, the rip in metal expanding in real time. Rathe flung arm after arm forward in a rough approximation of swimming. The ship was going to fall apart and after surviving the fall she’d be damned if some piece of debris would take her under.  

Slowly she built up a safe distance from the heaving boat, free of jumpers and other items being tossed overboard. Exhaustion flooded every cell. Chill seeped through her skin, freezing Rathe down to the core, a kind of cold that seemed it may never go away. With a colossal rip, the oversized gash tore through the top deck and the Titanic tore into two, the smaller half filling rapidly with water and pulling everything in its immediate vicinity under. Lifeboats were pulled into the vortex and the water swarmed with people where the back half of the boat had been. The current tugged against Rathe’s clothes, but she remained clear of the melee.

Flares from the remaining portion of the dark ship gave the appearance of celebration. Rathe slicked her hair back, finding ice already forming. A foghorn called from the deck. Rathe willed herself to keep her eyes open. Stay awake. The foghorn echoed. Then echoed again. Not an echo. Unbelieving, Rathe turned as a small group of ships approached. Rathe dragged her way through the water as someone in a rowboat moved powerfully through the water. Strong arms pulled her out. Her frozen limbs refused to cooperate and could only convulse. A thick fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the dark, cold night faded as a voice encouraged her to relax.

*

Rathe tumbled over the railing and disappeared into the darkness over the ocean.

“Rathe!” cried Sara. She couldn’t hear a splash. Was there a splash?

“Lowering!” called the sailor. The lifeboat dropped several feet, causing Sara to lose sight of Rathe’s probable location. Sara scanned the black churning water as the boat dropped again and again finally landing hard. The night brought a decided chill not helped by the misty spray from waves. The small boat rocked as Sara leaned far over the side, ice clutching her core.

“Sara, we have to move away from here,” said Nate. “The Titanic is about to snap and if we’re close we will get caught in the scramble or overturned.”

“I don’t see her,” said Amaya. “If we get to the Waverider they will be able to detect her better than us.”

Nate and Amaya took an oar and began paddling their boat away. Sara pulled herself back from the edge, taking a seat and watching the waves rock back and forth against the damaged ocean liner and the crack in its seam growing, spreading to the upper decks.

“We’re ready, Ray,” said Amaya. “Approximately four hundred meters east of the ship.”

The Waverider materialized overhead, lowering a ladder. Jax stuck his head out and grinned.

“Good thing we’re here to save your asses,” he said. Amaya shook her head very slightly. Once inside, Sara raced to the bridge. Ray and Mick ogled the sinking ship.

“We need to do something!” said Sara.

“Yeah,” said Ray, “I did.”

“What?”

“Well I saw Titanic take some hits. Really cool looking contraption, kind of a steampunk feel to it. Anyways, so I took the liberty of sending out a distress call on their behalf. Happened to be a Norwegian trade fleet nearby.”

Sara’s jaw dropped.

Ray glanced around. “That was good…right?”

Sara dove forward and hugged Ray.

“That was good,” said Amaya, smiling. “Now we need to try and find Rathe. Hopefully she’ll get picked up.”

“What happened to Feelings?” asked Mick, potato chip paused just out of reach of his mouth.

“She got knocked overboard in the panic,” said Nate. “But she’s smart. I bet she got out of there before it split.”

“Gideon, can you do a scan on Rathe?” asked Sara. “Any alien life should be her.”

“I’ll give it a try Captain,” responded Gideon pleasantly. “Thanks to Mr. Palmer’s quick thinking, Ms. Adler’s chances have significantly improved.”

Out the window, three ships pulled around the wreckage of the Titanic, sending out smaller crafts to retrieve people from the water and beginning operations to extract people from the remaining floating portion.

“Incredible,” said Nate with wonder. “The Titanic will still be famous for going down on its first journey, but most will survive.”

“And we have the manuscript,” added Amaya.

Sara felt inside her corset and extracted the weathered bound pages. Still dry. The Legends hunched around, craning for a look. Sara’s gaze remained fixed out the window at the rescue mission.

“I’m afraid I’m finding no sign of Ms. Adler’s empathic energy,” said Gideon. “She is either in a state of unconsciousness or –”

“Thanks Gideon,” interrupted Amaya quickly. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said to Sara. “We’ll know more in the morning, but we can’t discretely help from here.”

In her room, Sara stared at the ceiling. She tried to recall the tug she felt from Rathe onboard the ship earlier. An epic failure. No captain should leave behind a team member. If she hadn’t put it all on Rathe to obtain the lifeboat… Any one of them could have secured a boat. Fitfully Sara slept, waking before anyone else.

“Tell me you have some news Gideon,” said Sara wearily.

“I do, Captain. Of the more than two thousand passengers, approximately sixteen hundred were picked up by several Norwegian trade ships. They are being taken to Stavanger’s main port in Norway. It’s less than a day’s journey by boat.”

“Is there a list of survivors?”

“Not at this time, Captain. Shall I plot a course for Stavanger?”

“Please.”

Sara, Mick, and Ray disembarked just outside the city, getting a carriage to the docks where the Titanic survivors were expected later in the day. The old city drifted by, winter still clinging on, fogging the breath of those outside and dusting the ground with light frost. Faintly Sara felt the tug. She smiled to herself. Shouldn’t have doubted that sneaky alien would find a way to survive.

The docks crowded with onlookers and well-wishers ready to greet the Titanic passengers. The first of the three rescue ships floated slowly through the harbor, deck packed with people solemnly staring at the approaching port. Quiet covered the previously chattering crowd of onlookers. As the first ship neared the dock the shadow of the second appeared in the distance.

One by one, people in mismatched clothing, wrapped in blankets and fur descended the trade ship. Officials greeted them, taking down names and point of origin to notify families. Volunteers followed, handing out food and clothes and offering places to stay for the next few days. Mick fiddled with something inside his jacket.

“You ok buddy?” Sara asked.

The burly man grunted and sheepishly pulled a half-size bottle of Bordeaux wine from his pocket.

“I thought we should have something warm waiting for Feelings,” he said.

“That’s sweet,” said Ray. “Wish I’d thought to bring something. Did you get anything Sara?”

Sara shook her head. _But maybe after we get back to the ship…_ She certainly owed Rathe something after leaving her to fend for herself in the freezing water. Hundreds of passengers crowded the already packed dock. In the distance the third ship came into view. Passengers unloaded, hundreds upon hundreds, with no Rathe in sight. Halfway through the third ship’s disembarkment, she finally came into view at the top of the ramp. Her outerwear was mostly gone, her top covered instead by a great fur cloak that brushed against her cheeks and hung down to her knees. Involuntarily Sara stepped forward, despite their distance of at least a hundred feet.

Rathe lowered her head as she spoke to the recordkeeper. He nodded her forward without jotting anything down.

Sara rushed towards her teammate, nearly knocking Rathe down with a giant hug. Electricity sizzled between them, invisible to all others, exciting, but…different. Sara pulled away. Mick stood back awkwardly and then dove in for his own hug, finishing the move by presenting the mini wine bottle, much to Rathe’s delight.

“Didn’t expect to see you all again,” said Rathe, feeling a touch overwhelmed.

“I never leave a team member behind,” said Sara firmly. “We shouldn’t have left you out in the water.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” said Rathe evenly.

“Well all’s well!” said Ray. “Back to the ship?”

*

Rathe kept her distance from Sara as they returned, opting for Mick to accompany her to the medbay for a quick scan from Gideon. _Probably a little sore we left her_. Rathe kept the thick fur wrapped around her torso tightly, occasionally pulling the hood over her head, granting her the appearance of a slight bear. Sara passed by twice, the first time as Rathe was undergoing her scan, and the second as Mick held the curled up alien, at that point fully immersed in the bearskin cloak the Norwegians had provided. The gruff man circled her protectively, looking a little sleepy himself as he leaned against her fuzzy form.

Sara retreated to the gym for a quick training session. The Waverider needed to recharge in the time stream and the Legends had to figure out next steps, both for Rasputin and Voynich’s mystery manuscript. Might as well take advantage of the down time.

The leather bag thwacked satisfyingly as Sara completed another kick combo. She wiped perspiration from her brow, staying light on her feet as she circled the bag.

Thwack! A thump seemed to echo down the hall. Sara paused. Silence. She spun into a roundhouse kick, ducking under the swing, and striking with the heel of her hand as the bag returned. Another noise. Sara hugged the bag until it stilled, her heart beating steadily into the smelly, worn leather. The time stream cast a slight greenish tint across the room. The chain on the bag squeaked as Sara pushed it away gently, causing it to sway. A cry. Instinctively Sara brought her gloved hands up defensively.

The hallway and bridge of the ship were completely empty. Warily Sara approached the captain’s chair. Ray should have been manning it. The dashboard remained untouched, still in recharging stasis mode, all systems online. Unease grew in the pit of Sara’s gut. She strained to hear any sign of life.

Ray’s boots protruded from the medbay. As Sara rounded the corner his prone body came into view. Still breathing, but down for the count. Mick looked decidedly worse, angry bruises already darkening along his arms and blood in the early drying stages from his temple and nose.

“Mick?” asked Sara, with a light shake. The large man groaned but otherwise remained curled up in the corner. They must have taken on an intruder in Stavanger. A big one from the looks of the beating Mick took.

Jax and Professor Stein seemed to be the most recent casualties. The two pieces of Firestorm seemed to have been violently split and remained dazed on the floor of the kitchen.

“Jax, what’s going on?” asked Sara urgently. He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone take a blast from that close. She didn’t even flinch.” He glanced at his companion. “I’ve got to take a look at Grey.”

“She?” asked Sara. The back of a chair cracked across her back and she fell over Jax’s prone figure, rolling to regain her stance.

Rathe stood holding the remains of the chair, the bearskin still about her shoulders, short hair matching the brown-red fur of the cloak. She discarded the broken chair and picked up another, tossing it easily. Sara ducked and the chair struck the wall, splintering on impact.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sara warned.

“Wrong attitude.”

Rathe snarled and leapt. Sara tried to dodge but got caught. Nails sheared across her shoulder leaving red gashes where the skin broke. Sara swung, but Rathe seemed to have endless strength and energy reserves. Jax slumped against the wall, pretending to be out. Rathe seemed interested only in Sara, still standing. Without a clear plan, Sara bolted, managing to make it out of the enclosed space.

She slipped into the brig, breathing heavily. Rasputin sneered through his glass cell door.

“What’s your problem?” asked Sara with frustration. “If you’re behind this, I swear I will gut you and toss your organs into the time stream while you watch.”

“It wasn’t me darling,” he said thickly. “You did this.”

“I did?”

The mystic nodded. “You brought it onboard. Even from this cage I could smell it.” He inhaled audibly, his smile revealing sharpened canines at the corners of his mouth. “It will tear you apart. All of you.”

“What is it? How does it work?” Sara demanded, pounding a fist into the glass where Rasputin stood. The Russian simply shook his head. _I’m not telling_.

Sara turned and tried to focus. This creep was just trying to get in her head. She needed to figure out why Rathe was losing it. Laughter from Rasputin caused Sara to look up. Rathe stood in the doorway, slowly approaching.

“You’re the only one left,” she said. “Are you strong enough to end it?” Sara twisted away from the hit and struck once, twice, but Rathe kept on her feet. With a powerful inhale, Rathe pushed her hands forward dramatically.

The wave of energy visibly rippled the air and hit Sara full force. Her head throbbed as the room blurred and swayed. Sara blinked, trying to focus. Laurel crouched down.

“Why’d you do it Sara?” Laurel asked. Sara tried to sit up but Laurel held her in place.

“I wanted to be like you,” Sara said. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“You caused all of this,” Laurel responded. “The island, the League, my death… If you’d never gotten on that boat…”

“I know!” Sara yelled. Laurel smacked her hard across the jaw.

“I never should have saved you,” she said. The hits came, one after the other, never wavering in strength. Every one took Sara back to that day. Oliver’s flirtatious invitation, in Sara’s eyes the chance to finally be seen as an adult by her sister. The storm and isolation, struggle to survive, the League and slow hallowing out of her soul.

_It’s all your fault_.

A blow temporarily blacked Sara’s vision in one eye.

_It’s all your fault_.

Laurel. Leonard. Rip. They all left because she destroyed them. No one survived an encounter with Sara Lance without repercussions. Sara couldn’t fight Rathe, not like this. Whatever got to her made her too strong, and that was before she began using empathic energy. Sara let her hands fall and the blows struck harder against her torso until Rathe released her grip and moved on.

Rathe pulled the hood back over her head. She felt invincible but already the choking memories threatened to return. The only way to hold them at bay was to fight. She needed to find someone else. Someone stronger than Sara.

Rasputin leaned idly against the wall of his cell, stinking of power. With a quiet puff of air the cell door opened. Rasputin opened his mouth to speak, but Rathe tore into him with an inhuman roar before he could make a sound. The Russian mystic tumbled backwards into the cell as Rathe swung fists and elbows, reducing his face to a bloody pulp within seconds.

Sara forced her bruised body to rise and plowed into Rathe, managing to shove her away from the mystic.

_Regret_.

Rathe emanated regret, that was why Sara had seen Laurel in that moment. Rathe dove forward, pressing her arm into Sara’s throat. Sara struggled to free an arm and push Rathe aside, but the half-human’s extraordinary strength refused to wan. The bearskin glinted, an edge of red identical to the circles in her eyes. Dark spots dotted Sara’s vision. Fighting wouldn’t beat her.

“Why do you regret it?” Sara choked out. Unexpectedly Rathe dropped her.

“What?” Rathe said in a hushed whisper.

“Laurel forgave me,” Sara offered. “I’m sure…she would forgive you too.” For a second she thought the gambit might have worked, but Rathe charged again, grabbing Sara by the throat and holding her against the brig wall.

“And what did you do?” asked Rathe in a voice filled with venom. “Lie? Steal? Cheat? I saved someone. And I hate myself every day because of it. I hate myself because I wish I’d lived.” The grip tightened on Sara’s throat. Wish she’d lived?

“You died?” Sara managed.

“Yes,” answered Rathe. “Do have any idea the agony that brings?”

“Yes,” said Sara, voice raw. “I died too.” The grip loosened and Sara extended her toes to the ground for some support, rubbing her neck.

“I died and Laurel brought me back. But while I was gone she decided to take my place. That’s what killed her.” Sara’s voice hitched. “I killed her.”

“I think about that day constantly,” Rathe said distantly. “The shot…maybe it would have missed. My friends, family, my life…I didn’t have to give any of it up. What kind of person does that make me? That given the choice, I would let someone else die instead of losing everything…” Rathe’s arms fell.

“It makes you human,” said Sara.  “We all second-guess our decisions and we all feel selfish now and again. What matters is that in the moment, when a decision had to be made, you choose to be selfless.”

Carefully Sara stepped closer to the bearskin-clothed half-alien. “It’s why I’m glad you’re on my team. I had to learn to be a hero. To think like a hero. You came to Earth-1 a hero. It’s just in you.”

Swiftly Sara pulled the cloak away from Rathe, tossing it into the far corner. The red glow vanished from Rathe’s hair. Energy rippled through the air around Rathe, but Sara felt nothing. The shimmering vanished and the half-human collapsed to her knees, face in her hands, and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Go Mad by Caleb Kane


	9. Paradox Pox

The chronomonitor beeped again. Kieran Mallory glanced at the small module with a look of deep irritation.

“It didn’t work,” he said shortly. He didn’t turn but could imagine precisely the expressions of his companions. The rotund DaVinci somehow both pious and arrogant. And of course Dr. Heywood, the first research historian ever to be asked to the cover of _People_ magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue in 2098, then again in 2101. Kieran suspected Dr. Heywood’s good looks had far more to do with his success in life than any research chops. Well, that and his famous grandfather. A name got one far in life, especially at the turn of the twenty-second century.

“I don’t fault you Leonardo,” said Kieran, finally turning. “Your weapon worked exactly as I requested and did indeed take down the ship, although next time I hope you would anticipate calls for help. On the other hand, Dr. Heywood, your plan to tear these ‘Legends’ apart from the inside appears to have been a colossal failure.”

“Kieran,” said the charming researcher with open arms and a magazine-cover grin, “have some faith!” Dr. Henry Nathaniel Heywood IV clapped DaVinci on the shoulder.

“With a berserker cloak, the alien will take care of them for us,” said Henry.

“Or destroy us all,” argued Kieran. He never should have let this pompous ass run with the idea.

“No one can withstand the mental pressure,” said Henry confidently. “The Norse berserkers were fearsome fighters, true. But also decidedly low on control, and quite prone to fits of self-destruction in addition to the destruction of anyone not also in a state of rage.”

“And yet…” Kieran presented an open palm to the chronomonitor.

“That thing is buggy,” Henry complained.

“It’s not,” responded Kieran. “Not after Leo here fixed it up. The Legends are on their way to the earliest known human civilization in Mesopotamia. It seems they believe Jacob’s bedtime story about the Time Masters.”

Kieran crossed his arms. “But there may be another way…”

“I have a lot more ideas,” offered Henry.

“No thank you,” said Kieran. “I prefer a sure thing, and I know Dr. Gao will have some thoughts on that.” The slim, Chinese woman ducked her head nervously.

“While most may remember her as the one that solves the cure for cancer. Dr. Gao has quite the extensive background in all human diseases. I’m sure she can think of something.”

*

“This. Is. Awesome,” said Nate. The tiny town of Sumer rested just ahead. Even to call it a town seemed generous. A small collection of people living in relative proximity. The earliest forbearer to the city known to man. A modest settlement that would one day inspire the likes of New York City, Beijing, and so many others.

“Literally the start of everything we take for granted about civilization,” prattled Nate. “The Mesopotamians invented the whole idea of a shared economy, governance, and, importantly, written language. Their written language was early so very pictorial, but I think that fits in well with what we see in the Voynich manuscript.”

“I certainly hope so,” Sara responded, only half listening. The air felt hot and her head pounded. She brushed a hand across her brow but it came away dry. Amaya glanced at her.

“You feeling ok?”

“Yeah,” said Sara. “God it’s hot.”

Amaya and Nate looked at each other.

“It’s actually not,” said Nate. Quickly he touched her forehead. “Holy crap Sara! You’re burning up.”

Sara groaned. “I never get sick,” she said.

“Honestly,” said Amaya, “how do you feel?”

“Like there is a jackhammer in my brain, my skin is on fire and my mouth is dry,” responded Sara.

Amaya chuckled. “Never fear. Sounds like the flu.” She took Sara’s arm. “I’ll get you back. I can send Ray out to keep Nate company.”

Sara let herself be led back to the ship. Rathe and Mick, laughing over something in the kitchen, paused as they passed on their way to the medbay.

“Is there a fight?” asked Mick with interest.

“No, Mick, nothing to fight,” said Amaya indulgently. “Our Captain just has a case of the flu. A little rest, some meds from Gideon and she’ll be fine.”

Mick grunted. “I always miss the fights,” he said.

Sara laid down with relief. She hadn’t realized how crappy she felt until Nate pointed out her temperature. Now that he’d done so she could tell her skin burned unnaturally hot and noticed the deep-seated nausea in her gut. Her vision blurred as she tried to smile up at Amaya in thanks.

“Guys…” Amaya called loudly. Sara closed her eyes. So tired. So very tired.

Mick and Rathe rounded the corner into the medbay.

“What the…” Rathe exclaimed. Sara had looked decidedly unwell a minute ago when she passed the kitchen, but this was something else entirely. An angry rash dotted Sara’s forehead, extending by the second down her neck, and out from the torso to her arms and legs. Sara didn’t move, apparently having conked out in the few seconds she’d been prone.

“I have a feeling this isn’t just the flu,” said Amaya. “Gideon? Some help?”

“You are correct Ms. Jiwe. Captain Lance is not suffering from influenza. She appears to be displaying the symptoms of _variola major_ , more commonly known as smallpox.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Rathe. “Where did she get it? Why does no one else have symptoms?” Rathe and Amaya exchanged anxious glances as the same thought struck both of them simultaneously. _What if there are others_. Rathe hurriedly pulled her shirt up to check her stomach an Amaya followed suit. Mick watched the two women with an expression of mild amusement, pulling up his own shirt and flexing his abs. No bumps on any of them.

“I win,” he said.

“Yes you do,” said Amaya. “Mick, can you check everyone else for bumps like that?”

“Sure,” said Mick. “Still think I’ll win.”

“Let’s just confirm it,” said Amaya. “Bring anyone with bumps in here. And don’t touch them.”

Mick exited as Amaya and Rathe backed away from their smallpox-ridden Captain.

“Ms. Jiwe, sorry to intrude but I have some additional information on Captain Lance’s condition that may be of interest.”

“Go for it Gideon.”

“Captain Lance does not actually have smallpox.”

“Then what is it?” asked Amaya.

“For lack of a better explanation, smallpox,” said Gideon. “Given that Captain Lance is displaying symptoms at a highly accelerated rate, I believe that a younger version of her has been exposed to the virus, leading to her current condition.”

“What does that mean?” asked Rathe.

“For starters it means Captain Lance is not contagious. However, if her condition persists, it seems likely she will die.”

“Do we know when this happened?” asked Amaya.

“Historical records are now reflecting an outbreak of smallpox in Star City in the year 1995. Ms. Lance would have been seven years old then.”

“I’ll get Nate,” said Amaya.

“No,” said Rathe. She sprinted to the bridge, Amaya following. Breathing hard, Rathe handed Amaya one of the small orbs. “You go find Nate, and see what you can learn about the Voynich code. This will return you to Waverider when you’re finished. In the meantime, I’ll find someone who can fly this thing–”

“Ray,” interrupted Amaya.

“I’ll find Ray,” Rathe corrected, “and we will go to whatever is causing this.”

Amaya nodded and took off down the rampway.

“Oh shit,” said Rathe to herself. “Ray!” she yelled.

Ray came sliding into the bridge with a questioning look.

“You’re in charge,” said Rathe. “We’ve got a smallpox outbreak in 1995 Star City.” She paused for a second. “Sara’s sick.”

Ray’s eyes widened. “Let’s go,” he said with unusual seriousness.

*

The Waverider ground to an abrupt halt. Rathe swallowed the nausea in her stomach. For once, not from the jump but sheer anxiety. Sara might be human, but she radiated invulnerability. Nothing could kill her and yet just a hundred feet away she lay in a medically induced coma, breathing shallowly, and covered in gruesome pustules. Death was within reach if they screwed this up.

The remaining Legends filed through Gideon’s shot protocol soundlessly as they each received the smallpox vaccination before changing into apparel appropriate for the mid 1990s. Rathe looked at her reflection in disgust.

“I’m glad I grew up in boonies where we had no idea about fashion trends,” she remarked. “People actually dressed like this? No one wears their jeans this high!”

Ray shrugged on a letterman jacket with a grin. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “I like the 90’s.”

They descended into the city.

“This is Star City?” asked Rathe with astonishment

“Yeah,” said Ray. “You been here?”

Rathe laughed. “Yeah. Only in my universe this is Boston.”

“Weird,” said Ray. “Here Boston is, like, in a totally different place.” The group stood, staring at the cityscape.

“Where are we going?” asked Mick.

“Um,” said Professor Stein, furrowing his brow. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of speaking with Captain Lance about her pre-Legend days.”

“She’s got a sister named Laurel,” offered Jax.

“Who dated Oliver Queen,” said Rathe, recalling their encounter while she was under the influence of the berserker cloak. She frowned trying to recall anything else helpful.

“Sara, Laurel, and Oliver are pretty tight,” said Ray. “And the Queens have lived in an old estate just outside of town for generations. I know how to get there.”

“Perfect,” said Rathe. “We go to the Queen estate, and I bet we find Sara, or someone who know where we can find Sara. Lead the way, Ray.”

*

The elegant family home radiated with privilege and the stability of wealth that has been in a family for generations. Rathe tried to suppress the feelings of resentment that rose as they approach the stone and solid wood exterior. A uniformed butler answered the door.

“Hello!” said Ray cheerily. The butler sneered at their appearance. “We’re looking for Mr. Queen. Oliver. Ollie. We’re friends of Ollie’s.”

“Right,” he said, not budging from his position in front of the door. “And I suppose you know him from, what? The first grade? Recess buddies I suppose?”

“High school!” said Ray.

“Master Oliver Queen has just turned ten,” the butler responded in a snooty tone. “I find that unlikely.”

The heavy oak door shut with surprising softness.

“Dude, Sara would have been pretty young in 1995,” said Jax.

“I forgot,” said Ray. “These clothes just seem so normal. A time I lived through doesn’t feel like the past.”

“New plan,” said Rathe. “Ray, you’re going to fly up to the windows around the back until you spot a ten-year old boy. Then get the information on Sara’s whereabouts.”

Rathe spun on her heel and marched down the cobblestone walkway, away from the grand house.

Ray rejoined the group about five minutes later, appearing suddenly as he grew from atom to full-size.

“Well, I found him,” he said. “Sick. So if he says anything people will think it was a fever dream.”

“Where is Sara?” asked Rathe impatiently.

“School,” responded Ray. “Star City Central Elementary. Ms. Stryker’s second-grade class.”

The bland, public school stood unassumingly amongst the convenience stores, restaurants, and apartment buildings of the downtown area. The sound of children at play floated on the air. The Legends slipped through an alley along the school, finding the course of the cries in a concrete, fenced-in blacktop area behind the school building. At least three hundred children a range of ages ran in circles and played along the edges of the square play space.

“How are we going to find her?” asked Ray. Just then a bell rang, and with remarkable trained response, every child ceased these activities and funneled towards the wide double-doors. Within sixty seconds, the cries had vanished and the blacktop echoed with silence.

Rathe took a deep breath.

“I’m going in.”

Astonishingly, the building managed to be even more drab on the inside. Faded tiles imposed some vague pattern along the floor while drawings and projects were liberally displayed along the hallway, somehow giving more the impression of desperation than hope for what this future generation held. The principal’s office was easy to find, centrally located and with the requisite hot seat just outside. Rathe strode in, trying to suppress her own lingering fear of schools. She’d made it less than half a year before her mother pulled her out for home-schooling. School had not proven a friendly place for a young Empathia.

“I need to pull Sara Lance from her class,” Rathe said as she entered. A young woman glanced up in surprise.

“Well, I’m just the secretary,” she said. “You’ll need to talk to Mr. Mathenson about taking a child out in the middle of the school day.” The secretary continued typing. The gold placard on her desk read Ms. Chester. Rathe allowed Ms. Chester to ignore her for a minute while she sensed the young woman’s aura. Unmarried, as evidenced by the placard, but not single. Settled, but restless. Likely a boyfriend that wouldn’t commit and the wait was starting to wear on her. That combined with a job which she was beginning to realize had very little upward mobility…a lot of frustration. She was better than this, smarter, but no one would ever know.

“Have you ever considered working in sales?” said Rathe in a friendly voice. “I don’t mean to distract,” she added apologetically. “Or imply that you are anything less than fully satisfied with your current position. It’s just…I work in recruitment so I have a good sense for people. If you’re ever interested give my office a call.”

Gently Rathe placed a business card on the desk and then slid backwards onto the couch, crossing her leg patiently. Ms. Chester paused as she picked up the card and regarded it with an odd expression. She cleared her throat.

“You wanted to see Mr. Mathenson?” she asked.

“Yes, whenever he has the time.”

Ms. Chester inclined her head. “As it happens I believe he’s free now.” She stood. “Please follow me.”

Mr. Mathenson proved to be just as much of a prick as Rathe expected. Fortunately, of the type of arrogance most easily manipulated and willing to overlook certain protocols. Rathe waited ten more minutes while Sara was called into the office. The young girl slipped in shyly, nearly platinum blonde hair trailing halfway down her back. Her hands clasped in front of her mouth nervously.

Quickly, before little Sara could say or do anything to derail her plan, Rathe touched her on the back, instilling a sense of comfort and familiarity, and rushed the small girl from the office.

“Thanks for your help Ms. Chester! Best of luck!” Rathe said as the pair sped out.

Rathe plowed through the waiting Legends.

“Tell me you did not just steal a little kid out of school!” said Jax. “That’s Amber Alert stuff!”

“Lucky for me, Amber Alerts don’t become a thing until 1996,” said Rathe, not slowing her pace.

“Do you at least have a plan?” asked Ray.

“Get her to the ship,” said Rathe firmly. “She can’t get sick if she’s vaccinated.”

“How do we know she’d not sick now?” asked Professor Stein. Rathe stopped abruptly, tripping Ray and Mick. All eyes turned to the now terrified young Sara. Professor Stein crouched down to her level.

“Hi Sara,” he said. “My name is Martin.”

“Hi Martin,” she said, hands back in front of her mouth.

“I am very sorry, if we have frightened you,” he said. “We believe someone wants you to be sick. Very sick. And we want to stop that. Do you understand?”

The small girl nodded her head slowly. Then stopped and shook her head.

“She needs to be vaccinated,” said Rathe firmly.

“She needs her parents,” responded Professor Stein. Nearby someone began coughing. They bent over on the sidewalk, holding the railing of the apartment complex nearby for support.

“I think we’re too late,” said Professor Stein more calmly. “Our Sara wouldn’t be sick unless this Sara already had the virus. Our focus needs to be a cure.”

Rathe’s arms fell heavily to her side. The miniature version of the Sara she knew looked about at the arguing group in fear. While physically the resemblance to the woman she would become was inescapable, this child carried none of the strength or confidence Rathe associated with Sara. She was so young, so naïve, so unaware of the harshness of life. Loss rushed over Rathe.

“Sara, can you tell us where your parents are?” said Rathe, crouching down beside Professor Stein. The older Legend placed a hand on Rathe’s back.

Professor Stein and Rathe took the young girl to the Star City precinct in search of Officer Lance. Ray, Mick, and Jax headed to Memorial Hospital to learn more on the situation and procure some samples that could hopefully lead to a cure.

*

Everyone at the hospital rushed around with masks. The reception desk had been abandoned. A woman that seemed as if she might have been the receptionist tended frantically to several patients resting in stretchers that lined the hallway.

“We’re full,” she said waving them away with a frazzled air. “There’s no more space. More than half our staff are sick and still attempting to treat people. No more.”

“We’re here to help,” said Jax. Her frazzled expression collapsed into relief. She waved her hands.

“We’re in no position to turn away willing volunteers. Follow me.”

She led the Legends through the narrow winding hallways of the hospital. Stretcher beds lined one side of the hall, each and every one occupied, the more gruesome of which twisted in agony beneath the sheet, vomiting into the pans attached to the side of each bed, or in worse cases, missing, and splattering sick fluids on the worn linoleum floor.

Mick jumped away from the stretchers with a horrified look, shuffling to keep up with Ray and Jax.

“Why did we have to come to a hospital?” Mick grunted.

“Because this is where the sick people are,” said Jax.

“Exactly!” responded Mick. “Why are there always so many sick people at the hospital? They’re not good places.”

The receptionist rounded one final corner and stopped.

“Here’s a list,” she said, handing it to Jax. “Supplies in there. Meet me back by the front.”

Jax stared in a panic at her retreating figure.

“You guys good?” said Ray. “You help the nice people out, while I go snooping. Yeah?” Without waiting for a response, Ray zipped away.

Mick crossed his arms. “I’m not touching a thing here,” he said. “I don’t want to get sick.”

Jax sighed. “Awesome.”

*

Sara’s legs swung several inches off the floor in the waiting room of the precinct. For the first time since the Legends picked her up from school, she seemed completely comfortable and at home, humming atonally and rocking back and forth in the seat designed for an adult. Professor Stein fidgeted with irritation.

“Whatcha singin?” whispered Rathe.

Sara shook her head shyly.

“You know,” Rathe confided, “sometimes when I see people, I hear music that helps me understand them.” Sara nodded knowingly. Rathe smiled.

“I’m glad you understand,” Rathe said.

A thin, slightly unkempt man rushed up to them.

“Sara!” he exclaimed. He hugged his daughter tight. “Are you alright?” The young girl nodded slowly.

“Who are you?” the officer asked, glancing quickly at Rathe.

“I am…a teaching assistant at Sara’s school.” Officer Lance’s face twisted in confusion.

“Since when does a teaching assistant take a child out of school?”

“She’s sick,” said Rathe.

“Well…why didn’t you take her to a hospital!” the father exclaimed. He pressed a hand to Sara’s forehead and jumped back in alarm. “Christ! You weren’t kidding. She’s burning up.”

With no further conversation, Officer Lance lifted Sara from the chair and held her in his arms, turning to leave.

“I think we should follow,” said Rathe.

“I think we’ve done enough,” said Professor Stein.

“Something’s off,” said Rathe. “This isn’t a time rift caused by the paradox. This is someone trying to create an intentional discrepancy. I’m going to meet up with the others at the hospital.”

*

Exhausted doctors, nurses, and staff moved from room to room with an air of urgency despite the fact that no one was actually moving all that quickly. Ray slowed his step to blend in. A doctor scanning a patient list in the hallway peered suspiciously at Ray and Ray ducked into the closest room to avoid scrutiny. The doctor strode by with a sense of purpose, seemingly unaware of the groans from the patients stacked in the hallways. Through the narrow window Ray caught a glimpse of the doctor in profile.

“Guys…” said Ray activating his comm. “Either I’m going crazy, or Jack is here.”

“Yeah, I’m right here,” said Jax. “You left us in the supply closet. We’re back up front delivering supplies. Remember?”

“No, no! Jack! Jack the Ripper!” emphasized Ray. “I had to haul that piece of crap over a mile. I’d know that profile anywhere.”

Silence.

“Ray, where are you?” Rathe’s question came across quietly.

“I’m at the hospital.”

Low cursing that appeared to delve into other languages echoed through the comm.

“Where are you?” Ray returned.

“On my way to you,” Rathe responded shortly. “Sara is checking into the hospital. Left with Officer Lance a few minutes ago.” Rathe rubbed her temple. “Jax, go find Sara and stand watch. Ray, we still need a cure.”

“On it. But it’s worth pointing out that through all of human existence a cure was never found. We eradicated it only through rigorous use of quarantine.”

Ray left the room that smelled of death and followed signs to the lab. The hospital signage seemed to point in a circle before he noticed the narrow turn-off into the lab. The space was empty, staff likely either sick or requisitioned for duty treating the overflow of patients. The exodus appeared to have occurred quickly, for a few tables were in disarray, chairs out at an angle from the bench, and some vials appeared to have been overturned. Elsewhere, in the neater areas of the lab, samples from infected patients remained, patiently awaiting their turn for analysis. A cluster rested in various machines, in different stages of processing.

“Perfect,” whispered Ray. He leaned over a prepped microscope. The virus wiggled about, a form he’d only ever seen in biology books. “Focus, Raymond, focus.”

Hundreds of years had yielded nothing with respect to smallpox except to make the victims as comfortable as possible before death. To find a cure in time, he had to think beyond traditional methods. The virus wiggled and split, doubling in number. He watched the virus replicate until the small tissue could sustain no more. Without a living host, the virus died.

Ray lifted his head from the microscope and activated his comm.

“Hey everyone, I have an idea. It might be a bit crazy. But it also might work.”

*

The emergency room doors opened automatically as Rathe approached. No one bothered her, all busy tending to the ill or resting on any available surface. Gray death lingered in the air, the stench of rot, taste of ash, the dull blankness of the vacuum of space. It oppressed and overwhelmed. So little life. A nurse, still on her feet tenderly wiped traces of sick from a patient. Rathe had to look away. She already carried the disease. So much for good deeds. The dark energy crept close, threatening to consume her. Rathe closed her eyes for a few steps.

_Seek_.

She needed to find her teammates, they would be among the only clean auras here, if she could reach. The barest hint of flame, buttery mashed potatoes. She opened her eyes, and turned her feet in Jax’s direction. The younger half of Firestorm looked utterly lost. His face rose with relief.

“This place is creepy,” he said. “And that was before an old serial killer started walking around.” He turned pointedly away as they passed a room with an open door. Rathe made the mistake of looking in. Blood pooled on the floor and decorated the wall, as the murderer experimented with drawing swirls and shapes with his grisly medium. The bodies had been gutted while alive, organs and intestines pulled out and laid on display upon the windowsills.

Everything rose without warning and Rathe vomited across the threshold, adding to the disarray of the room. She coughed to clear her throat, backing away.

“Yeah,” said Jax. “Guess he decided to practice while waiting.”

Rathe shook her head. “We have to find him.”

She pushed past Jax, heading for the main lobby, the most likely entry point after the ER. She spotted Officer Lance just beginning to explore the rooms, searching for someone to help, young Sara curled in his arms.

“Officer Lance!” called Rathe, waving.

A patient room swung open. Jack, dressed in white scrubs, now decorated with the blood of several patients looked up and down the hallway with interest. In his left hand, a long, sharp scalpel dripped slowly onto the floor.

“Sara Lance?” Jack asked. Pitch black eyes darted between the two pairs of people.

“That’s me,” said Rathe.

“Sara is my daughter,” said Officer Lance at the same time. “She’s sick.” He looked uncertainly at the modified weapon. “Can you direct me to someone that can help her?”

Jack grinned. “I’m in charge here.”

Uncertainly Officer Lance stepped forward. “What’s that for?” he asked, inclining his head towards the scalpel.

“Bloodletting,” said Jack. “It’s untraditional, but…effective at eliminating symptoms.”

“What kind of symptoms?”

“All kinds. No more nausea. No more fever. No more of anything.”

Rathe bolted down the crowded hallway, flinging her psyche forward, dispelling all the desperation and illness she’d taken on in the ER. Jack stumbled and fell, remaining prone as choking sounds emerged.

Officer Lance skirted the serial killer and glanced in the last room, the carnage confirming his worst gut feeling. Gently he set Sara on the ground and pulled his gun.

“You have the right to remain silent…” he began, cuffing the distressed killer. He completed the statement and used a second set of cuff to hold Jack in place against a pipe.

Officer Lance crouched near Sara, stroking her cheek and looking worriedly at the rash on her arms. Ray appeared, panting heavily.

“Go to lost and found and bring every jacket, coat, and sweater you can find,” he said. “Then wait for me outside the cold storage. No matter what, do not enter.”

Without waiting for questions, Officer Lance picked up Sara, and followed Ray. Rathe and Jax backtracked to the lost and found by the main lobby, grabbing anything remotely cold weather appropriate.

Officer Lance waited outside the cold storage with a worried look on his face. The three watched through the small window as Ray sat and waited, tiny Sara looking colder and colder as minutes ticked by and Officer Lance grew more agitated.

“Her lips are blue!” he yelled. “I can see it from here! You people are going to kill her!” He grabbed his thinning hair, pulling his hands up as if pulling out his remaining strands, but true to his promise did not try to enter. Five more minutes passed. Ten minutes.

Through the window Sara shivered in her thin clothes and then still shivering, remaining in a frozen, curled up position, completely still. Ray’s lips moved in a countdown. Rathe held Officer Lance with a sense of hope.

“Not long now,” she promised the father. _This better work_.

Ray completed his countdown and picked up Sara, bringing her back into the warm hallway and immediately piling the stack of lost and found clothing on top of Sara, rubbing her exposed limbs. Officer Lance hugged the cold bundle tight.

“Come back to me baby,” he whispered. “Come back.”

Slowly the blue skin turned purple, and then pink. Sara’s eyes fluttered open. Ray took a deep breath.

“What did you do?” asked Jax.

“I killed her,” Ray said. “Or rather, I let her body die, temporarily by going hypothermic. The virus can’t survive in a dead body. I cured smallpox! Kind of.”

“Thank you,” said Officer Lance, tears in his eyes.

“Just do me, do all of us a favor,” responded Ray. “Keep her safe.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Officer Lance picked up his youngest daughter, and holding her tight, left.

*

Rathe took a seat on the swing set next to the young girl. Her skin glowed with health, blue eyes pale as water. She looked up with her nose crunched in concentration and stared. Rathe smiled.

“Hi,” Rathe said in a friendly voice.

Sara toed the dirt under the swing. “Hi,” she said shyly

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” said Sara, nose scrunched again. “Why did you help me?”

“Because one day, you might help someone I know. And I need you around to make sure that happens,” said Rathe.

Sara appeared to consider this. She stared at the Legend with curiosity. “Why are your eyes that color?” she asked.

“What color do you see?”

“Gold.” The young Sara Lance dug the tip of her shoe further into the loose dirt. “I saw a panther on TV with eyes like that. But never a person.”

Rathe leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?” The young girl stopped her digging and paused in expectation.

“Everyone sees something different,” Rathe whispered. “My eyes reflect your aura, your energy.”

Young Sara’s jaw dropped. “So am I like a panther?” she asked.

“It seems so,” said Rathe with a grin.

Young Sara grinned back and then frowned. “But, what color do you see when you look in the mirror?”

Rathe tussled the young girl’s hair, leaning in close. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Nobody Knows Me by the Weepies


	10. Much Ado

Patterns moved like a kaleidoscope behind Sara’s eyes. So hot. Her skin burned. Opening her eyes, she groaned. Everything hurt.

“You’re up!” Amaya set down her book.

“I feel like crap,” said Sara.

Amaya laughed. “Well I have to say you are looking a whole lot better than earlier when we thought you were dying.”

“I had the weirdest dreams,” said Sara, fever retreating.

“I bet.”

Sara thought about the strange psychedelic visions. A bizarre mix of memories from childhood and the Legends. Rathe at the playground near her parent’s house, eyes shimmering silver and gold telling her that she was a panther. Sara shook her head with a half-smile. Best not to tell Rathe she’d appeared in a fever dream. That might violate the terms of their casual arrangement.

“Where is everyone?” asked Sara.

Amaya arched an eyebrow. “Expecting anyone in particular?”

“No,” said Sara.

“Ah. Well Nate and I stayed in Sumer trying to find out what we could about the code.”

“And?”

Head shake. “A bust. It’s not the source. Everyone else went to Star City to make sure you pulled through ok. They’re catching some sleep now.”

“Do we have any other leads on the code?”

“Nate’s been working on it, but so far – no.”

Sara sighed. So they were still in the same place as before. More research. More dead ends. She sat up, her previously burning skin feeling cooler.

“Well, let’s get to work then,” she said.

*

Sara couldn’t help but feel in the way in the library, bumping into Amaya and Nate as she bounced from shelf to shelf in search of a book, until one of them finally pointed it out.

“Maybe I should get some sleep too,” said Sara.

“You were just quite ill,” agreed Nate.

Excellent. Smoothly done. Sara exited the library, giving the couple the space they seemed to want. Sara paused as she passed Rathe’s door. She wasn’t particularly tired, having slept the entire time she was sick. But they had yet to discuss whether their arrangement remained in place. It was already more than a one-time thing, but that seemed ok since they both agreed it meant nothing. It was just about the only thing they agreed on.

Sara knocked quietly. She paused, on the verge of moving on to her room when the door cracked open.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” said Sara. “I can go.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Rathe, opening the door a touch wider. “I could use a distraction.”

Sara slipped into the half-human’s dimly lit room, glancing around curiously as she realized this was her first time in the room since it became occupied. Books lined the shelves and stood in precarious stacks, with at least half a dozen open to various pages around the room. The overflowing bed showed signs of recent use with a thick fleece sheet rumpled at the foot and a collection of misshapen pillows pushed into the corner. The dim light vanished, cutting short her observation, and Sara followed the twisting curves of Rathe’s hand over to the bed to forget about the world, for a little while.

They lay panting together in the dark for a few minutes as the heat dissipated and their hearts returned to a normal pace. Rathe released a large breath and shifted slightly away from Sara. Sara rolled, spooning her body against Rathe, relishing the fact that it probably irritated the other woman.

“I’m having these memories,” she said. Sara’s curiosity about the Star city trip compelled her forward. “Or dreams, I’m not sure. But I think they’re memories, because the better I feel, the more vivid they become.”

Rathe said nothing.

“I met someone like you as a little girl, except your eyes were gold.” She looked to the place where Rathe’s face should be, if it weren’t so dark. Even without the benefit of sight Sara felt the presence of skin only inches away.

“Are they not gold now?” Rathe asked. Her disembodied voice sounded stronger, more mysterious in the dark. She could have been conveying a veiled threat, or flirting.

“Sometimes,” Sara admitted. “They seem gold more often now, but when we first met, they were silver.” She laughed. “I remember because I thought it was so unsettling. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look you in the eye.”

Rathe chuckled in a low tone, her chest vibrating against Sara’s head.

“Good thing we do this in the dark,” Rathe said.

“Is that how you see me?” Sara asked, ignoring the jab. “Gold?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of? Com’on, Rathe. You can do better than that,” Sara teased. “Empath me.”

Rathe took a deep breath. “When I see you, when I touch you…I see the fine steel edge of a weapon, just cleaned but still smelling of blood. A caged panther, dark as night with eyes of gold. I smell sand on the edge of ocean and feel the feathers of a bird, soft yet unbelievably strong.”

Sara felt Rathe swallow.

“It’s hard to explain,” Rathe said.

Emotion swirled in Sara’s chest. To feel that every time they touched, or stood near… Sara felt exposed, uncomfortable realizing the assumptions Rathe must make.

“This is why I don’t like to tell people,” said Rathe, moving out from under Sara. “It’s why this was a bad idea. We should stop…whatever we’re doing.”

_Of course_. Rathe felt her discomfort.

“It’s just sex,” Sara said, pushing to feeling away, hoping Rathe would think it a fleeting thought.

“But we’re not balanced.”

“So balance it,” Sara challenged. “You made it work with Alex.”

“That was different,” insisted Rathe. “I…” She stopped suddenly.

“What?” pressed Sara.

“I…opened up to her. She could feel my energy too.”

The silence stretched, filling in the rest for Sara. She began to laugh.

“The empath is afraid what others might think,” Sara said. “I should have known.”

“You should leave,” said Rathe.

“I was on my way,” retorted Sara.

*

Nate sighed as Sara left the library.

“Man, she needs to relax,” he said. “I don’t know why she doesn’t find herself a nice girl to hold at night.”

Amaya smiled as she rubbed Nate’s shoulders. “She’s too stubborn,” Amaya said. “Rathe too. All they do is snipe at each other, and then worry incessantly when the other one is in trouble.”

“It’s so obvious, right?” agreed Nate. “Unlike this stupid code. Ugh!”

“Maybe we should take a break,” Amaya suggested. “Think about something else.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m not really in the mood,” Nate grumbled.

“Not that! I meant, maybe we could have a little fun matchmaking. Let’s face it, no one is going to solve this thing all stressed out. We need a happy, relaxed team. An objective involving our esteemed Captain might be just the solution.”

Nate spun in his chair, facing Amaya. “You are the most brilliant woman I know,” he said. “I am _so_ in.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I have an idea.”

*

Sara threw a pillow across the room in frustration. Why did Rathe always have to be so infuriating and make her feel so stupid, so inconsequential? Of course she couldn’t compare to the perfect Alex Danvers. That stupid memory/dream was confusing her, making her feel as if she knew Rathe, when it actually changed nothing. A frantic knock at her door broke her spiral.

“Captain!” said Jax. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s going on?” asked Sara. The rest of the Legends had already assembled on the bridge.

“Best we can tell, Mallory has claimed another great,” said Ray.

“Swell. Who is it this time?”

“Shakespeare.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. We have this damn code to decipher and you want to chase down Shakespeare? I don’t think so. Mallory can have that old windbag.”

“I think we should step in,” said Nate. “Shakespeare is a valuable ally in terms of impacting popular opinion. Just look at what he did for Henry VI, Richard II, not to mention King John.”

“Who?” said Sara.

“It’s not like we have any leads on the code at this point,” said Amaya. “The team is restless,” she added in a quieter voice.

Sara sighed. Amaya, as usual, had the most compelling argument. “Fine,” she said. “But if we learn anything useful to our primary mission, I need everyone to promise they will drop this.”

The group nodded, energy visibly higher now that they had a concrete mission in place. Even Sara felt her spirits lift at the prospect of getting back out into time.

Nate led the team briefing.

“Alright, the situation is this. William Shakespeare is preparing to put on his seminal play _Romeo and Juliet_.” Groans from the Legends.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it! It’s been done to death but imagine how exciting it was when it was new and no one had to read it in high school! Anyways, this seems to be the event Mallory has targeted. We’re going to go in undercover as actors and that way we can stay close to Shakespeare and watch out for Mallory.”

“Great,” said Sara. “One problem. None of us are actors. How do you expect us to be cast in this production?”

“I have a plan,” said Nate firmly. “Once we get to 1595, Ray and I will do some recon to make sure everything is set.”

Nate and Ray exited the Waverider quickly, armed with a basket discretely covered with a linen cloth. Once clear of the Waverider, Nate and Ray hustled to the theater. Signs announcing auditions lined the cobblestone streets and covered the storefronts. The line of would-be actors trailed halfway down the street.

“I hope we have enough,” said Ray nervously.

Nate glanced up to the sky briefly. “Please forgive me,” he said.

Smiling, he approached the first actor in line and began handing out small cookies, moving methodically down the line.

“How soon will this work?” asked Ray in a low voice.

“Not long,” whispered Nate in return.

Even as he said it, actors at the front of the line clutched their stomach in distress. Quickly, Nate and Ray finished distribution and dashed out of sight before anyone put two and two together. They burst into the Waverider, flush with embarrassment at the discomfort they’d wrought to a hundred men and the thrill of success.

“I hope everyone is ready!” shouted Ray with a flourish. “Because we know a theater that needs actors!”

With widely varying degrees of enthusiasm, the other Legends emerged in their sixteenth century apparel.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Sara.

“Speak for yourself,” said Mick. “I look great. This century suits me.”

Outside the theater, signs of several people recently passing through remained, but not a soul in sight. The Legends filed through the open front door, interrupting an argument between two men, one with hair slightly frazzled and the other the picture of good taste, polish, and money. The frazzled man brightened at their appearance.

“I told you they would come!” he insisted to the other man. “Actors, right? See!”

The other patted him on the back like an overeager dog.

“Let’s see if they can act first Willie.” He turned to the group. “Seamus Otterfield, producer and director. I assume you are here about the audition?”

“Indeed we are!” said Nate. “Actors!!! I, myself, have always been partial to the role of Mercutio….”

Otterfield snapped his head back to Shakespeare. “Willie? Did you rip this off some poor sap? How do they know about a secondary character from your play?”

“Oops,” said Nate quietly. “No, nothing like that! Shakesp…I mean Willie and I got drunk at the pub down the road. That’s how we learned of this audition!”

“I do not remember that!” cried Shakespeare.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” replied Otterfield sourly. “Well, we haven’t much time to waste. We did not get nearly as many actors as expected so let’s see what role each of you are best suited for.”

One by one the Legends took to the small wooden stage to read lines from what appeared to be an early draft of the play. Rathe took to the stage dressed in menswear from the era, every inch the young, sensitive man.

“If she can read, she’ll get Romeo,” Nate whispered to Amaya. “He’d be crazy not to.”

“Sure, but how do you plan to get Sara as Juliet?” Amaya asked.

Nate glanced at their captain, swinging a prop sword with terrifying intensity. “TBD,” he said between gritted teeth.

Sure enough, two lines, into Rathe’s read, Otterfield cut her off. “Young man, I need hear no more. Begin learning Romeo’s lines.”

Rathe’s eyebrows arched up in a now-familiar tell of impending sarcasm, but Nate shoved her offstage before she could retort and make Otterfield change his mind.

After Nate’s dramatic reading, Otterfield reluctantly assigned him the role of Mercutio. Amaya fussed over Sara as she prepared to go onstage to read.

“Leave me alone,” Sara finally snapped. “I’m not a child!” Otterfield’s eyes lit up, at least until Sara began her lifeless read. Otterfield interrupted.

“Willie’s script can have so little energy for a young woman,” he said. “Perhaps you have an alternative selection you’d prefer to demonstrate?”

“Um…” said Sara. “I pledge allegiance, to the flag…” To the horror of Nate and the other Legends, Sara recited the national pledge in its entirety. Otterfield listened, utterly transfixed and burst into applause as she paused at its conclusion.

“Magnificent!” he said. “Truthfully, I’d expected something traditional, but your improvisational skills do you credit. A young woman of such wit and beauty must be my Juliet.”

“What just happened?” said Nate.

Amaya squeezed his shoulders. “Your plan just came together sweetie. It’s time for phase two.”

*

“Welcome everyone!” announced Otterfield the next morning. “You have all been selected for this most exciting journey! In one week we open doors on William Shakespeare’s latest – _Romeo and Juliet_! For the next several days you don’t think or eat or sleep without doing it just as your character would. This is going to be wonderful!”

A dark-haired teenager stepped out behind Otterfield and began calling character and scene numbers.

“Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio onstage now!” he called in a cracking voice.

“Make sure Sara gets backstage in a few minutes,” said Nate as he moved towards the stage.

“You know it,” responded Amaya, giving her boyfriend a quick peck.

Amaya slipped away, finding Firestorm and giving them a significant nod. Jax and Professor Stein made their way backstage, chatting amicably.

“Hey Sara,” called Amaya, emerging from backstage. “I’d start heading backstage. Rathe and the other Montagues are finishing a scene, but then you’re up with Martin.”

“Ugh,” said Sara, flipping her script pages in frustration. “I still don’t know how I ended up in this role.”

Amaya shrugged. “You nailed the audition.”

Sara glared.

Voices rose and fell, fading in and out as Sara navigated between the costume and prop boxes backstage. She paused as bits of the conversation came through.

“…really can’t believe Rathe was able to convince Otterfield to have Sara play Juliet. And the worst part is, Sara’s furious while Rathe is over the moon.”

“You know Rathe pulled Otterfield aside after her audition,” said Jax. “Said she’d play Romeo but only if he made Sara Juliet.”

Professor Stein whistled low. “Poor girl. She’s head over heels for our captain and Sara barely thinks of her as human.”

“It is sad,” Jax agreed. “She’s constantly trying to be difficult, just to get Sara’s attention.”

“Alas, I acted similarly as a youngster. Rathe is obviously smitten yet terrified by the prospect of rejection. So much so that she concocted this elaborate means of being close to her while otherwise pushing her away,” said Professor Stein.

“Do you think we should tell Sara?” asked Jax. “Maybe she would be nicer to Rathe if she knew the surly act was all a cover.”

“I don’t think so, young Jackson. In my experience, it’s best to not meddle in these types of affairs. Should Rathe learn of our indiscretion she would be both angry and embarrassed. And Ms. Lance has shown no inclination that she harbors any warmth towards Rathe.”

“Good call, Grey. We stay mum.”

“It’s for the best,” said Professor Stein. “We have to hope that Rathe will get over it eventually.”

Paper shuffled. “Damnit, I still haven’t learned this scene,” muttered Professor Stein. “I’m up next with Ms. Lance.”

“I’ll help you run lines,” said Jax. Sara remained crouched behind the wooden box as the voices retreated beyond earshot.

_What the hell_. Rathe specifically asked for Sara to play Juliet?? In a weird way, it made sense. Sara had done everything possible to bomb her audition yet here she was… forced to play lovers directly across from Rathe. It certainly would be an easy way for Rathe to write off more affectionate behavior that would otherwise violate the terms of the casual no-strings arrangement they’d established.

That had to be it. Rathe was embarrassed to realize that maybe she liked Sara, and too stubborn to go back on her initial proclamation that it meant nothing. If it really meant nothing, it would have only been a one-time thing, and they were way beyond that now.

Sara gave a half-laugh. All those failed attempts at conversation, shut down so quickly by Rathe…The Empathia so scared to show her feelings and so afraid of closeness…Of course she’d respond to liking Sara by being outwardly antagonistic.

As if reading her thoughts Rathe strode offstage at that very moment, starting as she nearly collided with Sara’s half-obscured figure.

“What the hell Sara?” Rathe spat. “Lurk much?”

Sara nearly spit back a snarky retort but caught herself.

“How did your rehearsal go?” Sara asked pleasantly.

Rathe furrowed her brow. “Well, you weren’t in the scene, so I’d say it went better than the one we’ll have later today.”

Sara ignored the attempt to goad. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said. “You’re a great actor.” _Probably that empath ability coming in handy_. She bit back the comment, afraid Rathe might take it the wrong way. With as much grace as she could muster, Sara passed Rathe and walked onto the stage for her scene with Martin.

Rathe rolled her eyes. Behind her the tussle of Nate and Ray coming offstage drowned out the sounds from the front of the house.

“Wow, Sara really looks stunning,” said Nate. He leaned just offstage with Ray, watching Sara and Martin stumbling through their lines.

“She does,” agreed Ray. “I think she was hoping to make an impression on Rathe later. They are scheduled for the balcony scene this afternoon. Sara will talk of nothing else.”

Rathe slipped a bit more out of their sightline, curiosity getting the best of her.

“It’s almost funny,” Ray continued. “Since I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Sara get so attached to someone.”

“Really?” asked Nate. “Sara always seems vaguely uncomfortable around Rathe.”

“Exactly!” said Ray. “She doesn’t know how to act. You may have noticed, but Sara’s not exactly a big emoter, while Rathe is basically a feelings expert. The result is…Well, you’ve seen it.”

“Sara is definitely not good with positive emotion,” said Nate. “Once after we saved a medieval village from a horde of bandits, she punched me in the face.”

“Ouch.”

“Broke my nose,” said Nate. “I took it as a compliment. If that’s how she reacts to being happy about fight, being in love must be rough.”

Nate paused, watching the scene in progress. “Do you think we should tell Rathe how Sara feels? Maybe if she knew Sara wouldn’t have to feel so awkward.”

“Definitely not,” said Ray. “First of all, Sara would kill both of us, slowly and with much pain if she found out. Secondly, Rathe clearly has no interest. I mean, she can read emotional states, so she already knows that Sara likes her, and yet she’s done nothing with it.”

“Unless Sara pushes it way down deep.”

“Yeah. That’s possible.”

“Man, I feel bad for Sara.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that,” Ray warned.

“Right on, thanks buddy,” said Nate, clapping Ray on the back. “I can’t fathom why Rathe wouldn’t be interested in Sara. She’s strong, beautiful, and a great leader. Anyone would be lucky to be with her.”

“No telling,” said Ray. “But Sara deserves someone who knows how great she is. And if that’s not Rathe, well, hopefully Sara notices all the other people that actually appreciate how amazing she is soon.”

The two guys wandered off the other direction, still chatting. Rathe emerged from her hiding place, head spinning.

Sara, interested in her? In _love_ with her? It made no sense. They’d been sleeping together for weeks now under well-established no-string rules. Her mother’s voice echoed in the back of her head. _Just like your father, you always miss what’s right in front of you._

What if Sara had agreed to the casual arrangement as a way to have something, instead of nothing? What if she had pushed her feelings down so deep, that Rathe missed the signs? She had come by Rathe’s bedroom uninvited, and then become mean, maybe jealous, after mentioning Alex. They hadn’t properly spoken since. Seen now for what it was – a cry for more – Rathe felt the shame creep up her throat, making it difficult to swallow.

Sara’s voice carried high and clear from the stage. Rathe straightened up to full height. She would do better by Sara. Give her a chance and try to see, really see and not assume, whether Sara’s aura reflected the love Ray saw.

*

The day passed quickly from scene to scene with scarcely a chance to stop and eat. Sara saw Rathe only in passing, but felt the golden-eyed creature’s eyes following her. Sara found herself holding her breathe when they were within a few feet of each other. She felt shy, unsure how to act now that she knew of this wrinkle in their so-called casual arrangement.

Rehearsal dragged as her anticipation grew for the balcony scene scheduled for late afternoon. Sara read and re-read the scene, imaging the dimple in Rathe’s right cheek when she smiled, the way she threw her head back when struck by a throaty laugh, the gold flecks in her eyes that shifted with the light.

Sara shook her head quickly. _Stay focused_. She turned in time to catch Rathe staring at her. The half-human reddened and looked away quickly as if the seating of the theater were the most interesting thing on earth. Sara felt herself blushing in response to the attention.

“Act two scene two!” cracked the young assistant director. “Romeo! Juliet!”

Sara slid from her seat and hopped onto the low wooden stage, gazing out at the semi-circular benches where the audience would sit. Footsteps vibrated the floorboards as Rathe entered from the backstage left entrance.

Otterfield appeared deep in conversation with several well-dressed men. He glanced only briefly at his lead actors before waving a hand as if to say “proceed.” Hesitantly Rathe began her monologue. Sara only half-listened, distracted by her lines which were alternately vanishing from memory and out of order, as well as Otterfield’s lack of attention.

Rathe concluded her monologue and turned to face Sara, breaking briefly in tone as they made accidental eye contact. Rathe’s golden eyes burned with a warm, molten flame unlike any color Sara had ever seen. Her first line flew out of mind as she gaped and grasped for some kind of coherent thought. Her heart raced.

“Ay me?” whispered Rathe.

“Ay me,” repeated Sara quickly.

Rathe took a sharp breath, reciting her much longer line with considerably more poetry, but avoiding Sara’s gaze.

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” said Sara, feeling deeply stupid as she spoke the cliched lines to the empty seats.

“Stop, stop!” called Shakespeare. The playwright tore at his frizzy hair. “This is all wrong. All wrong!” He stared at the two of them, finally taking a deep breath.

“Look at each other,” he commanded.

Reluctantly the two scooped their eyes off the wooden floorboards.

“These characters – they’re young and in love for the first time. Have you been in love?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Rathe, swallowing.

“Yes,” said Sara, just above a whisper.

“Good,” Shakespeare said. “First love! It’s new, it’s exciting. But fate has conspired against them. They live in the same place, but worlds apart. So dire is their love that they are willing to die, because they believe they can never be together.”

Shakespeare glanced frantically back and forth between his lead actors in desperation. Both studiously avoided his gaze, their eyes still locked. Sara swallowed roughly.

“Two lovers that know they cannot be together have nothing to lose,” said Shakespeare. “So you hold nothing back. You fight for every moment.”

He glanced around the stage and pulled some random set pieces over, placing them between his actors.

“You would climb mountains to get to her,” he said. “Now try again.”

*

Over and over the two women declared their eternal love and devotion, Rathe climbing over more and more elaborate configurations of set pieces in order to reach Sara until she stood a good ten feet off the stage. As Rathe recited her love she flew up the boxes and spun around until she could finally reach Sara’s extended hand.

“Better,” said Shakespeare nodding to signal the end.

“This will be a lot easier once you get the balcony set built,” said Rathe, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“A balcony!” said Shakespeare. “That would be just the thing!”

In the back of the theater Otterfield finally finished his conversation and moved forward. Sara and Rathe exited as people began clearing the stacked set pieces for the next scene group.

Uncertainty wafted off Sara’s skin, orange and red, like dried fruit leather and the tentative touch of strings on a harp. Rathe felt her own confusion, a niggling desire to tease countered by shyness now that she knew of Sara’s feelings.

“You did great work today,” said Rathe. “Really tapped into Juliet’s emotional state.”

Sara flushed. “Thanks,” she managed. “You’re a great scene partner.”

Rathe floundered for something, anything to say in response.

“Listen, I –”

“I’m sorry –”

They both stopped.

“You first,” said Sara.

Rathe cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk,” she said. “I don’t know why. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me. Or talking to me. I think you’re great. You…you deserve to know that.”

“Thanks,” said Sara. “I’m sorry too. I know I tease a lot, but like hanging out with you. You don’t need to set up a performance of _Romeo and Juliet_ to spend time with me.”

Rathe laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Hold My Heart by Lindsey Stirling feat. ZZ Ward


	11. Diverge and Collide

They should have been more careful, but couldn’t wait. They stumbled into a prop closet, Rathe’s hands running across Sara’s skin as she recited her lines between kisses. Sara couldn’t recall feeling this aroused and came quickly, heavy breathing turning to laughter as she realized the obvious. _I may like her more than casually._

Rathe laughed to herself as well, eyes actively taking in Sara as she smoothed her hair and clothing in case someone walked in.

“Earth-1 is certainly different from what I expected,” Rathe said in a low, mischievous tone.

“How so?” asked Sara, hoping Rathe didn’t notice the extended flush on her cheeks.

Rathe gave an irritatingly non-committal shrug.

“Oh, come on,” said Sara. “Tell me about Earth-38. I’ve been dying to ask. Other than a few switched city names, what’s different?”

“Outside of a bunch of Legends I’d say it’s mostly similar,” said Rathe. “Except, you know, the aliens and such.”

Sara chuckled. “Where did the aliens come from?”

“All over,” said Rathe. “Mars, Krypton, of course, but too many planets to name and some with no name.”

“But how?” asked Sara. “I mean why would they all show up in your universe and here…nothing?”

“I don’t know,” said Rathe. “I assume this earth doesn’t have the Roswell Accord.”

Sara shook her head. “What’s that?”

“Towards the end of World War II some aliens crash-landed on earth. They were escaping famine on their home planet and landed in Roswell, Nevada.” Rathe’s hands danced through the air as if she were drawing images to match her words. Sara noted with relief Rathe was also no longer looking directly at her but fixed her eyes in the middle distance.

“Since it was the end of a war, they were held for a time at Area 51. That’s a great place to visit. My mother took me there once and we saw where the first aliens were processed and received American citizenship,” Rathe added.

Sara’s eyes bugged. “Wait, Area 51 is like the alien Statue of Liberty?”

“Totally,” confirmed Rathe. “Anyways, I’m jumping ahead, but after the war the United States got big on open border, one world kind of stuff to prevent the sort of hate and prejudice that led to the atrocities in Europe. So they formalized a document called the Roswell Accord, which established earth as a refuge for aliens seeking a new life.”

 “So, aliens…more or less normal in your universe?”

“Yeah,” said Rathe. “There’s still work to be done. Prejudice is slow to fade, but mostly society wants to be better, to welcome people and ideas that are different.”

“Wow. Your universe sounds completely different, even if our history is otherwise identical.”

“So no Roswell Accord or Area 51?” asked Rathe. “Weird.”

“Well we have conspiracy theories,” said Sara. “UFO chasers that claim aliens arrived and the government covered it up. That’s our Area 51.”

“Maybe they did,” said Rathe, grinning wickedly.

Sara laughed. “Right.” An idea occurred to her that she suddenly knew with absolute certainty was correct.

“Hey, all these aliens that came to earth. Did they all have their own language?” asked Sara.

“Yeah. Hundreds of them. Though of course they learn earth languages to fit in. Most aliens coming to earth don’t want to remember their home worlds.”

“Written language?” pressed Sara.

“Most of them. Why?”

“You’re right,” said Sara, shaking her head.

It was so obvious now. It had literally been right in front of her the entire time.

“What?” said Rathe in surprise.

“We need to leave right away.”

*

 “Play time is over,” announced Sara. Mick, Ray, Nate, and Jax glanced up from their card game.

“Excuse me?” asked Nate.

“Shakespeare,” Sara said. “Mallory can have him. We’ve got bigger fish. I know where to find a clue to the Voynich code.”

“As it turns out, Mallory seems to have switched his plan,” said Nate, talking quickly. “Guess he heard we were on the case.”

“And when were you going to share this with me?” asked Sara, placing her hands on her hips.

“Um…tomorrow?”

Sara closed her eyes and held up both hands.

“I will deal with you later,” she promised. “In the meantime, get your conspiracy theories ready – cause we’re headed to Area 51.”

The table stared at her dumbly for several long seconds. Ray caught up first.

“An alien language,” said Ray. “The Voynich manuscript isn’t an earth language at all. Of course! That makes so much sense. Guys, this means Earth-1 has aliens! Best. Day. Ever!”

“That is pretty brilliant,” said Nate. “Not only does a cover-up mean no one can decipher the Voynich manuscript, but the Time Masters even managed to stigmatize anyone who thought that by turning it into a conspiracy theory.”

“We’re going to need help though,” said Sara. “Rathe, I’m hoping you know an alien expert at the DEO we can call on.”

*

Rathe rotated the small blue and silver token between her fingers nervously, the engraved “S” disappearing and reappearing with each turn. She’d pressed the beacon as soon as she arrived back in 2017, but several minutes had passed and so far, nothing. A sudden blast of wind kicked up dust and forced her back a few steps. Rathe coughed and carefully opened her eyes, waving away the dust.

“Always have to make an entranc–” she began.

Right there, standing beside the tall, muscular figure of Supergirl stood Alex Danvers, _her_ Alex. She glowed the most brilliant deep sea blue. Rathe tasted symphonies of music. She was lost in those warm brown eyes.

“Sorry for the delay,” said Supergirl. “You are _not_ close to Central City.” She flourished towards her sister. “I brought someone to help!”

“Hi Rathe,” said Alex softly. “You’re looking well.”

“You’re still a bad liar,” said Rathe. Her eyes stared, unblinking, afraid it might dash the illusion.

Supergirl raised an eyebrow at Rathe. “Shouldn’t there be a time ship…or something?”

Rathe reluctantly pulled her attention from Alex and extracted the small time orb from her jacket.

“Or something,” she explained. “This will return us to the Waverider. From there we’re going to Area 51, which is where you come in.”

“That is so cool!” said Supergirl. “The birth of the Roswell Accord!”

“Not in this universe,” Rathe warned. “We can’t be sure what happened, but a best a cover-up regarding the presence of aliens and…”

“At worst, full scale slaughter,” said Supergirl grimly. “Humans don’t change.”

“We’re not all bad,” said Alex neutrally.

“Of course not,” corrected Supergirl. “Some humans. Some aliens too.”

Rathe cleared her throat. “We all need to be making contact with the orb, directly or indirectly.” Supergirl and Alex placed a hand on Rathe’s shoulder. Rathe clicked the small button, and with a rush of wind the Waverider materialized around them. Supergirl and Alex Danvers stared at the interior of the sleek, future time machine.

“ ‘Wow’ does not do this justice,” said Alex.

“Supergirl!” said Sara approaching. “And who are you?” she added in a less friendly tone.

“Alex Danvers. I’m with the DEO.” Alex extended a hand with a friendly smile.

Sara hesitated a fraction of a second before reaching forward for a perfunctory shake. The contact was too brief to discern anything specific, but something definitely felt off. Alex sought Rathe’s gaze but Rathe had side stepped away. Before she could get close to Rathe, they were being directed to follow someone on a tour of the ship.

Sara watched as Ray enthusiastically led their Earth-38 visitors from the bridge, discussing the nuances of time travel and some of their more notable adventures. She noted Alex’s long look back towards Rathe. The half-alien seemed particularly out of sorts, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Sara wondered what kind of lover’s conversation she’d missed by sending Rathe to retrieve her friends alone.

The frustration rose suddenly. So that was the perfect Alex Danvers. Sure, she was good-looking. Ok fine, hot, she was smoking hot, clearly fit, and by all accounts whip smart. And the way she looked at Rathe, well, how could Sara ever compete with that?

“Well aren’t you going to follow them?” asked Sara with an edge to her voice.

Rathe looked as if she wished the floor would swallow her whole, but she made her way off the bridge in pursuit of the tour.

Sara punched the edge of the dashboard, crinkling the metal slightly and cutting her knuckle. She ignored the pain, relishing the sharpness it gave her mind. Stop moping over nothing. They needed a plan.

*

“I love it!” said Supergirl.

“I don’t,” said Alex sharply. “You’re telling me we’re going to send Kara and Rathe into the belly of the beast and hope for the best? That’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission.”

“There was more to it than that,” said Sara.

“Yeah!” added Ray. “Like faking an alien landing. That will take some work on our part.” Ray and Nate high-fived, oblivious to Alex’s seething.

“They need back-up,” said Alex shortly. “I don’t care what alien abilities you have, I know government, and if the government on Earth-1 wants aliens covered up, they will find a way to bury you. Literally.” The tall agent crossed her arms, chin jutting out slightly. “I should go in as an agent,” she said. “Keep an eye on things and be available to help out if it all goes sideways.”

“Fine,” said Sara, her jaw squaring in similar stubbornness. “But I’m going too. I’m the captain of this ship and this is my mission.”

“We’re still faking an alien landing, right?” asked Nate.

“Yes,” said Sara, stony gaze not wandering from Alex.

“Sweet.”

“You know you can’t wear that,” said Rathe to Supergirl.

“Why not?” she responded looking down at her red and blue uniform.

“Oh come on,” said Rathe. “On this earth you’ll just look like some kind of comic book crazy.”

Kara pouted briefly. “Fine, but if we have to look ‘alien’ I’m going to get you in the most ridiculous outfit I can think of.”

“You’re on,” said Rathe. The two aliens retired to the fabrication room. Nate and Ray also left the bridge, discussing lighting and pyrotechnics. Sara and Alex stared each other down.

“Guess we should figure out our cover,” said Alex.

“Easy,” responded Sara, “we walk in.”

“That won’t get us very far,” said Alex.

“You might need to knock a few heads, if that’s what you mean.” Sara paused innocently. That’s not a problem is it? I know Rathe came here with barely passable fighting skills but I assumed that was her incompetence not her instructor.”

“I’m here to help,” said Alex, feeling her temperature rising.

“Well we don’t need your help,” said Sara. “We asked for Supergirl. Not you.”

Sara turned, wondering why it felt so good to know she got a rise out of Alex freaking Danvers.

The fabrication room appeared to have exploded into a Halloween prop shop. Kara and Rathe alternately picked out items for the other to try on and dissolved into fits of giggles. Sara peered around the corner curious at this playful side of Rathe, so unlike the tortured soul Sara knew. Alex huffed behind her, starting when she realized Sara had the same destination in mind. Rathe glanced up, wide-brimmed feather hat giving her the appearance of a parody musketeer. She removed the oversized hat with embarrassment.

“It’s a good look for you,” teased Alex. Rathe blushed. Kara rolled her eyes.

“Get a room already,” Supergirl muttered.

“Yeah Rathe,” added Sara. “Why don’t you show Alex your room?”

Rathe froze, and very slowly moved to the edge of the room and out into the hallway. With a half-repressed glare directed at Sara, Alex followed.

Alex smiled as so looked around the half-alien’s cluttered but comfortable room. Classically Rathe, it somehow managed to be both a disaster and impeccably organized. Rathe herself seemed slightly different. She had the same rakish attitude Alex remembered so well, but with a strain of something else, something mysterious, maybe angry, maybe sad.

“I’m with Maggie now,” Alex said as the door softly clicked closed

“I know,” said Rathe, fidgeting with a stack of books. “I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

Alex blushed happily. “She says hi. And thanks for the apartment. Although she doesn’t spend much time there these days,” Alex added slyly.

“It was worth every penny then,” said Rathe.

Alex moved forward suddenly, pressing her lips into Rathe’s. In that moment, they moved through time, back several months to the days when they shared a bed every night. But the instant was fleeting, vanishing the second air returned between them, and making it more clear than ever the weight of experiences since the day they parted.

“Maggie told me before I left…that it would be ok if we…” Alex’s whisper faded as she leaned in to kiss Rathe’s cheek.

Desire filled Rathe, but instead of Alex’s body it was Sara’s she felt arching into her, wrapping around, raking her hair; Sara’s scent that filled her.

Alex stepped away, eyes shining with surprise.

“Oh Rathe,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“It’s nothing,” said Rathe quickly. “It’s not like that.”

“That’s not how it felt,” teased Alex.

“It’s just sex. Just a way to feel…”

Alex stroked Rathe’s cheek with the fingers Rathe had gifted with empathic ability. “Maybe it started that way,” offered Alex diplomatically. “If it helps, she’s furious I’m here. I’m glad I finally know why.”

“It’s not like that,” insisted Rathe. “I think Sara’s just on edge because of this stupid code we can’t crack.”

“Good grief, is it so hard to believe that another girl could like you?” asked Alex.

“No. Just that Sara Lance would.”

“Well she does,” Alex concluded. “I think you ought to tell her that it’s mutual. For my sake if no other reason,” she added.

Alex sat beside Rathe on the bed, brushing an errant strand of hair back. Without a word, the two women laid back together, feeling the comfort of nearness, familiar skin and scent, touch and habits. Alex nosed Rathe gently, the way they used to before talking together in bed.

“Now tell me everything,” said Alex. “Or swear to Rao I will empath it out of you.”

*

Sara slammed her fist into the punching bag again and again as Supergirl watched with interest.

“You may not have super strength but you sure have endurance,” the Kryptonian remarked.

“Want to take a round?” asked Sara, breathing heavily.

“I better not,” Supergirl said. “I tend to break things.”

“Gotcha,” said Sara, turning back to the quivering bag. A noise at the entrance made her turn.

“I think the guys are finally ready,” said Rathe. Alex stood next to her but not touching, Sara noted. Arms crossed. All business. She took one last combo at the bag, finishing with a solid right hook that made the chain groan.

Rathe and Supergirl changed into nondescript clothes interlaced with heavy duty polymer. Sara and Alex sported dark suits and sunglasses.

“Like the _Men In Black_ ,” Sara joked. It fell flat as the residents of Earth-38 stared at her blankly. “You know…Secret government organization that helps aliens living underground?”

“We have the DEO,” said Alex. “But it’s not a secret.”

“No, it’s…it’s a movie. You know what? Forget I said anything.”

Supergirl shrugged. “Forgotten. So, now what?”

“Nate and Ray have staged a landing site for you,” Sara explained. “It should be able to draw the attention of whoever is inside Area 51. The idea, we think, is they will come to get you, at which point Danvers and I will take their place, thereby getting all of us inside.” Sara took a breath. “Once inside, we just need to find where they are holding the aliens and figure out who can decipher this.” Sara extracted a page filled with cursive-like symbols and stars along the edge.

“Easy peasy,” said Alex. “Be safe,” she added to Supergirl and Rathe.

The crash site consisted mostly of a hole in the ground, into which the Legends had tossed broken engine pieces of the Waverider.

“It’s futuristic,” argued Jax. “Hell, if I saw it I’d assume it came from a spaceship. In a way it does.”

“Now climb in,” coached Ray, “and we’re gonna leave. In about…five minutes there will be a series of explosions in this area. But don’t worry, it’s mostly pyrotechnics so the flash with be bigger than the bang.”

“But are we safe here?” called Rathe as Ray trotted away. “Are we…? Oh hell.”

“I’ll keep you covered,” promised Supergirl. “Trust me, Alex would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

Rathe glanced at Supergirl curiously. “She seems over it.”

“Not at all,” confided Supergirl. “I mean, yeah, she’s with Maggie and happy. But I don’t know if she’ll ever totally get over having to let you go.” Supergirl glanced quickly at her former DEO teammate. “I know we often didn’t agree on Earth-38, but you taking that bullet for Alex…” Supergirl shook her head. “You earned my trust. So, I’m here for you 100 percent.”

“Thanks Kara,” said Rathe gratefully.

The surrounding field exploded suddenly with a series of fizzles that popped into surprisingly large and bright flares. Supergirl shielded Rathe with her body but true to Ray’s promise, it seemed harmless. They crouched in the makeshift hole for several minutes while the air lit up around them in shades of white and green light, finally fading into the evening twilight dim.

“Now I guess we wai–” A rough hand yanked Supergirl by the back of her tunic. Hands grabbed Rathe’s arm, half-dragging her up the side of the pit. Rocks overturned from the digging scratched the side of her face and dug into her hip.

“State your names and business,” blared a voice. Rathe’s left eye was swelling shut but through the other a collection of approximately ten agents, head to two in black tactical gear and masks formed a semi-circular around their staged landing.

“Kara Zor-El and…Rathe,” said Supergirl, forcibly removing the arm that held her. “We wish to speak with someone in charge.”

“Are you alien?” asked the genderless voice.

“Yes,” said Supergirl proudly.

“Then you shall be taken to our facility for examination and detention. Do not attempt to resist.” Several soldiers moved forward.

“What the hell!” said Supergirl, quickly dispatching them. Shots rang out and Rathe hit the dirt. More hands but less rough. They brushed loose dirt from her hair.

“You ok?” asked Sara, removing the mask. Near Supergirl the other agent removed their mask, revealing Alex.

“How did you…?” Rathe asked.

Alex grinned. “Turns out your friend is a legit ninja. Got us the duds we need to fit in. From there it was easy.”

Supergirl and Rathe climbed into the back of the black van. Alex sat in the driver’s seat and fiddled with the dashboard until she succeeded in downloading its past coordinates. The old van started with a cough, leaving a cloud of sandy dust in its wake as they pulled off the forgotten strip of desert.

Fortunately, the vehicle made too much noise to make productive conversation happen, so Alex stayed focused on following the faint signs of use and let Sara stew over her jealousy in the passenger seat. In the deepening eve the large concrete structure emerged suddenly from the dark horizon, surrounded on all sides by a twenty foot fence topped with barbed wire and signs warning of electrocution.

“Not someplace you’d want to come by accident,” yelled Alex.

“Huh?” returned Sara.

Alex waved it off, searching the perimeter for the most likely entrance. A guard waved to the van and Alex approached, pulling on the mask. She rolled down the window.

“ID?” asked the guard in an alert but bored tone.

Wordlessly Alex handed the ID from the stolen uniform. The guard scanned it and jotted something down.

“Mixing it up I see,” he commented without looking up. “Usually Jansen drives. Everything go alright on the retrieval?”

Alex nodded, hoping this chatty guy would hurry up. He jotted down a few more items methodically, whistling to himself in a low tone that clearly grated Sara’s nerves. Alex felt the tension rising in the car.

“Alright, all set,” said the guard, finally handing back the ID. He pointed ahead. “They’re expecting you in hangar 4.”

As quickly as she could without attracting suspicion Alex zipped through the gate, watching it slide closed behind them. She parked the van out of sight and tied Supergirl and Rathe for the sake of show, preparing to lead them inside.

The concrete structure felt oddly familiar to Alex with all the standard markings and features of a government facility. Alex glanced discretely at Sara. The pretty blonde studiously pretended not to notice, which only amplified the jealous energy radiating from her body. Rathe stood stiffly between the two, while Supergirl openly gaped at the interior as if on tour instead of headed for potential incarceration. The conspicuous group slowly made its way through the empty, labyrinthine corridors finally encountering an imposing elevator.

“I don’t like it,” breathed Sara. “One way in, one way out. That stinks of a trap.”

“It’s also how they maintain security,” retorted Alex. “This is definitely the way.”

Sara scanned the bare, concrete wall around the steel doors. There had to be another way.

“If only we could get into the elevator shaft…” mused Sara.

Supergirl chuckled, stepping up to the doors, metal wrinkling in her hand like foil.

“That works,” said Sara, unable to hide her admiration.

Supergirl winked and stepped through the opening, hovering as she looked up and down.

“It goes a long way down,” she commented. “We’re at the top now.”

“Down it is,” said Sara stepping through and nimbly beginning the long climb down.

Alex rolled her eyes, extracting rappel equipment from her belt.

“Need a ride?” she asked Rathe. Rathe wrapped herself around Alex, trying to ignore the warmth between their bodies and the way Alex’s body curved and notched into hers as they descended through the vertical tunnel.

Supergirl met them at the bottom, already standing atop the evaluator. Wordlessly, Rathe slipped into the narrow vent and vanished.

Supergirl stared from Alex to Sara.

“We’re just going to let her slip out on her own? Without backup?” Supergirl asked

Simultaneously the two sighed.

“She knows we’re too big to follow but she’ll be back –”

“Just checking if the coast is clear then she’ll come back –”

Sara and Alex looked at each other in surprise. Supergirl snorted, but her laughter was interrupted by the sound of shuffling in the vent. Dusty, but otherwise none the worse for wear, Rathe emerged.

“Processing desk up front,” she said quietly. “Best way in is off the elevator. Security is regularly posted on every corner I could see.”

Supergirl heat-visioned a hole in the top of the elevator and helped the group down. Once situated, and Rathe and Supergirl re-tied, Alex hit the button.

The solid steel doors slid open into a mundane-looking office filled with cubicles. A receptionist sat fifteen feet from the entrance, a large phone prominently displayed on her desk alongside a bell. She smiled warmly as the group approached.

“What can I do for y’all this evening?” she asked in a lilting voice.

“Two aliens for processing,” said Sara.

“Of course. Identification?”

Sara patted her pockets. Imperceptibly the receptionist frowned, crinkle appearing in the center of her brow.

Alex stepped forward. “Authorization Delta-Epsilon-Omega, mission Nu-Gamma.”

The receptionist stood. “Absolutely,” she said in a respectful tone. “Please follow me and I’ll get you the director.”

The group followed.

“What the hell was that?” hissed Sara.

“That was me saving your ass,” said Alex quietly. “It’s a good thing Supergirl brought me, because she doesn’t know the DEO’s historical code system. And one wrong move there would have been the end of your precious mission.”

In front of them the receptionist smiled blandly and reached for the keypad next to the door. Without warning, Sara leapt forward and struck her precisely on the neck. She crumpled to the ground without a sound. Alex stared.

“What. The. Hell,” she hissed.

“She was about to activate an alarm,” said Sara, whispering to stay below the noise level of the nearest cubicles. “Looks like you put in the wrong code.”

_Shit_. Alex noticed the fingerprint scanner discretely tucked further to the side of the keypad. Sara was right.

Sara hoisted the unconscious receptionist up until she could reach the finger to the pad. The code lit up red, and then after several seconds turned green. The group collectively released a breath. Sara walked in, pulling the rope tied to Supergirl and Rathe and leaving Alex to drag the body into a more discrete corner.

Inside, the nondescript office veneer fell away sharply. Officers dressed head to toe in black combat gear circled around what appeared to be a ringed hallway, featuring cells on the inside with labs and offices along the outer walls. Dense mesh wire partially obscured the faces of the aliens currently in holding. Directly to the front, an officer sat behind a glass window, noting entrances and exits into the heavily secured space.

Alex walked in quickly, reaching for Rathe. Rathe twisted away sharply, yelling incomprehensibly and making strange noises. Supergirl’s eyes widened and then she too began to swing her body about and shout gibberish, tugging just hard enough against the rope that Sara struggled to contain her. Several guards rushed forward.

“They’ve been like this the entire way,” complained Alex. “Single crash about 75 miles out. New species we believe.”

“Ungrateful bastards,” agreed a burly guard trying to help. “Think they can come here and take over.” With a heave, he lifted Rathe and Supergirl and began to drag them down the corridor, Alex and Sara partially assisting until they were comfortably down the corridor. The yelling continued, fading only after the clank of metal on metal confirmed they’d been placed in a cell.

Alex brushed her pants and continued walking, scanning the cells.

“Smoothly done,” said Sara. “Now we just need to find the right alien.”

Alex put up a hand sharply. She approached a cell slowly, moving her head in an effort to see its occupant fully through the tightly woven mesh. She glanced quickly up and down the hallway.

“Tell Kara it’s time to go,” said Alex urgently, waving at Sara while remaining focused on the prisoner.

Sara glanced in the cell, seeing only a large green figure hunched in the corner. The figure looked up suddenly. Sara backed away in surprise as it stood to a height of at least seven feet and touched the inside mesh across from Alex. It didn’t speak, but Alex smiled as if it had.

“From another earth,” the tall redhead said. “We’re going to get you out.”

Metal rattled and the sound of cursing broke the spell. Sara sprinted and quickly dispatched the burly guard. She waved a hand at Supergirl and the thick mesh ripped easily as paper. Supergirl stepped out of her cage and peeled the mesh off the neighboring cell holding Rathe.

Rathe froze a few feet behind Alex.

“J’onn,” she breathed, her face lighting with joy. The green alien’s skepticism faded as she communicated something Alex Danvers hadn’t been able to.

“Let him out,” said Rathe, nodding to Supergirl.

Sara’s head spun, but she pulled the faded copy from her pocket. J’onn started visibly and reached for it.

“How?” he asked.

“After we get out,” Sara promised. Supergirl crouched and exploded upwards, cracking through layer after layer of concrete.

“Oh swell,” said Sara, as dozens of guards rounded the circular hall at the bone-shaking noise. “She’s fine but what about –”

Supergirl rocketed back down, striking the ground so hard the floor shook, knocking nearly every creature to the floor as loose bits of debris rained from the cracked ceiling. Supergirl grabbed Alex with one hand and Sara with the other, and jumped, the two humans clinging to her side as she passed through multiple layers of broken concrete into the cool desert night.

They landed softly in the sand, Area 51 comfortably in the distance. J’onn descended a few seconds later with Rathe. The aliens embraced, Rathe burying her head in the huge Martian’s chest. Sara waited until all the hugs were finished before clearing her throat.

“Do you…speak English?” she asked hesitantly.

Throatily the alien laughed. “I speak any language,” he replied, extending a hand. “J’onn J’onzz, the last Green Martian. I don’t believe you know me.”

“No,” said Sara. “I’ve never been to your world. Or, their world,” she corrected.

“Then I’m most curious to know how you have a script in Martian,” he said.

“I didn’t realize Martians had written language,” said Supergirl in surprise.

“Very rarely used,” said J’onn. “Since Martians communicate telepathically, we have little need for written language. But the Old Ones did establish one, which is used to record incidents of extreme significance.”

J’onn cocked his head at Sara.

“Yes,” he said.

“Huh?” asked Alex.

“I shall go to their time ship and help them,” J’onn explained. “It would be my pleasure, and the least I can do in exchange for freedom.”

*

Nate and Ray were beside themselves working with the Green Martian. The three loaded the Martian language into Gideon and watched as the artificial intelligence began to translate the alien language, with assistance by J’onn to decipher idioms and the occasional transcription error.

Rathe returned to 2017 to drop off Supergirl and Alex. Supergirl high-fived Rathe in parting.

“That was awesome,” she said. “Seriously, call us anytime.”

Alex kissed Rathe lightly on the cheek. “I hope you know I’ll always love you,” she whispered. “But I think…we both need to let go.”

Energy flowed, blue and silver between them, mist on the ocean as seen by a sailor leaving the open water for a new life, different, but no less filed with promise.

“It’s time,” Rathe agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan


	12. Zeitgeist

The screens of the Waverider were on pause all night as Gideon deciphered the text with the help of J’onn. Once the Martian completed his review, he shared a long embrace with Rathe before departing. Sara jumped the Waverider into the time stream while the super-computer finalized a coherent translation and summary. Sara wandered the ship, not tired enough to sleep, not in the mood for a workout, and bored. Rathe had gone directly to her cabin after dropping off their Earth-38 partners and Sara got the impression she didn’t want to be bothered. So she roamed the ship alone, watching the green and silver time stream float past.

She’d never watched it closely, Sara realized. If she squinted, the colors revealed images and faces that spun about in mesmerizing patterns. A pale face appeared right up against the window, startling her and making her jump back.

“Cap!” called Nate, running up to her. He paused while he caught his breath. “Gideon!” he gasped.

“Finally,” said Sara, not waiting for the historian to finish.

Ray stood proudly beside the main terminal computer, as if he, and not the artificial intelligence had solved the problem.

“What’s the word, Gid,” said Sara. “I’m ready to get this show on the road.”

“I have just completed my translation Captain,” responded Gideon. “I can provide you with a summary shortly.”

Sara tapped her fingers impatiently.

“All done, Captain. The Voynich manuscript appears to contain several steps.”

“Give me step one,” said Sara.”

“The first step involves astronomical positions of stars that suggest a particular time and place.”

“Skip the foreplay. When and where?”

“The coordinates direct the reader to a specific point in the Atlantic Ocean, in the year 1800.”

“Awesome,” said Sara, clapping her hands together in anticipation. “Let’s roll.”

“Captain Lance, I feel I ought to warn you that the location indicated forms the precise center of a region commonly known as the Bermuda Triangle. The area is notable for its –”

“Many strange and unexplainable events,” finished Nate.

“Precisely Mr. Heywood.”

“Thanks Gideon,” said Sara. “Let’s make sure everyone has a translated copy of the manuscript then, just in case we get separated. Are we ready to jump?”

“Unfortunately, the translation of the manuscript from an alien language required a substantial amount of my processing power. I shall need at least a couple hours in the time stream to recharge.”

Sara suppressed a groan.

“Alright folk, a couple hours. Then we jump.”

Nate and Ray nodded and left the room debating which video game to play. Sara sighed, the noise escaping her unexpectedly.

“What’s got you down?” asked Amaya. She strode forward, glancing at the page of translated text on the screen. “You should be pumped. This is a huge breakthrough.”

“Yeah,” said Sara. “I am. Just feeling off.”

Amaya opened her arms, palms forward. “Tell me about it. We’ve got a few hours and the guys are otherwise occupied.”

“I don’t really want to talk,” said Sara, turning away.

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with Alex Danvers,” said Amaya. Sara turned back in surprise.

“Come on Sara, give me some credit,” said the shape-shifting Legend. “You and Alex did nothing but snip at each other the entire time she was here. That would put anyone out of sorts. It wasn’t by chance about Rathe?” Amaya added, eyes twinkling.

“No! No,” said Sara. “I just…I don’t get their relationship. Or what Rathe sees in her.”

Amaya shrugged. “There is one easy way to find out you know.”

Sara stared blankly.

“Ask! Just go ask her. And remember…Alex Danvers lives in another universe. You’re here.”

“Yeah,” said Sara. “Not that it matters, though. I just didn’t like her. Didn’t like Alex. That’s it.”

“I’m sure,” said Amaya neutrally, but unable to suppress a grin.

*

Rathe tossed about the semi-dark room restlessly, finally admitting defeat in the battle for sleep. She followed the sound of voices to the rec record, finding Ray and Nate chomping on popcorn and playing Space Invaders on brand-new Atari system.

“Really guys?” asked Rathe, taking a seat beside Ray. “You don’t think this is in poor taste after just visiting Area 51?”

Nate froze. “Oh shit I didn’t even think of that,” he said.

“I’m just screwing with you,” said Rathe, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn.

“Thank god,” said Ray, “cause I am about to pass my all-time high score!”

“Pathetic, man,” said Nate.

The two continued their virtual battle, with only the beep from the game and crunching of popcorn interrupting the silence. One screen later Ray’s player died, spinning in pixelated circles to indicate his demise.

“Arg!” he said in frustration.

“And the streak continues,” said Nate, brushing his hands with a satisfied air. “You up for the challenge, Rathe?”

“Nah,” she said, “just didn’t feel like being alone.”

“That’s fair,” responded Nate. “You used to be good friends with that Alex chick, right?”

“Yeah,” said Rathe, picking at a thread on the burnt orange couch.

“How was it seeing her?”

“Strange. Good. But strange.” Rathe continued to tug on the thread. “We used to date, back on Earth-38. And, uh. Well…” Rathe sighed. She couldn’t deny it anymore, the reason she couldn’t sleep, the last thing holding her back from moving on in this life. She’d felt it shortly after Alex returned to her universe, the joy, the next step.

“She proposed.” Rathe said.

“Wow,” said Ray.

“Yeah,” said Rathe. “To her girlfriend, Maggie. Shortly after getting back. It’s just strange, even though I knew it would happen. She was ready.”

Ray’s smile faded. He leaned over and hugged the newest Legend. “You’ll be alright,” he said reassuringly. “You’ve got us!”

Rathe laughed. “Yeah,” she said, snuggling into the genius goofball. “I will.”

*

_Just ask_. _Just ask her_. That damn face in the time stream seemed to taunt her. Sara power-walked through the Waverider, surging with hot, explosive energy. She couldn’t believe she’d followed Amaya’s advice. Ok, she hadn’t exactly followed it. The talking never happened, turned out, there was no need. After locating Rathe in the rec room, Sara heard all she needed to know.

She proposed. Alex friggin’ Danvers proposed to Rathe. Guess distance really did make the heart grow fonder and all that crap. Would Alex move to Earth-1? Did she find a loophole to let Rathe return to Earth-38? Or maybe there was yet another universe they planned to conquer together. Honestly, it didn’t even matter.

That damn face floated up again in the window. A prettyish young woman turning her head aside as if flirting, then back again as a different face that echoed the doubts in Sara’s mind. _It will never be you_.  A guttural yell escaped Sara’s throat as she swung an arm, shattering the protective surface. The time stream pulled her forward slightly as the glass gave, but the stupid face vanished, and other than some cuts she actually felt a little better. Sara edged away from the broken window, temporarily calmer. Footfalls chased the shattered echo as Ray, Nate, and Rathe appeared around the corner with looks of concern.

“Are you ok?” asked Ray. “Did something hit the ship? Was there an intruder??”

Sara shook her head. “Just me,” she responded hoarsely. “Saw something out the…” She gestured towards the damage.

“Yeah, let’s get Jax on that,” said Nate.

“And I’ll get you to the medbay to bandage up that hand,” followed Ray.

Rathe stared into the time stream as it continued to flow past, a frown on her face.

“Is the time stream dangerous?” Rathe asked Amaya as she entered the bridge to toss the glass shards.

“Not from what I can tell,” said Amaya. “Nate told me about a time he fell off the ship into the time stream. All that happened was he crash landed in feudal Japan. It’s basically harmless. Just try not to jump into it unless you can survive the fall.”

“Huh,” said Rathe.

“Why do you ask?”

“Sara just seemed a bit…off. I wasn’t sure if the time stream had something to do with it.”

Amaya smiled. “Yeah I don’t think it’s that.”

“Alright,” said Rathe distractedly. “Do we have a translated copy of the Voynich? I need something to do while we recharge.”

“Sure thing,” said Amaya.

Rathe swung by the fabrication room to pick up the translated copy of the Voynich, idly flipping pages as she walked back to her room. She opened the door without looking, not noticing the light was already on.

“Shit, Sara!” cried Rathe glancing up suddenly. The captain reclined against her bed in a manner both casual and expectant.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Rathe asked.

“I wanted to see you,” said Sara. She stood and slid her hands along Rathe’s torso down to her hips. “That’s alright isn’t it?”

“Sure, but I was going to do some reading. Maybe, later?”

“Later?” said Sara sharply.

“Are you alright?” asked Rathe, holding up the manuscript. “This was super important to you thirty minutes ago. I’m trying to help.”

“It feels like you don’t want me around. Like I was just a phase. Convenient. Just like that it’s over?”

Rathe sighed. “Honestly, I’m not in the mood for this. I’m going to read, and then we can…whatever.” Rathe waved her hand in frustration, opening the door for Sara. Sara paused, staring at Rathe intently, and slowly exited.

Rathe quickly forgot the encounter as she dove into the dense manuscript. She skipped past the descriptions of star alignment, to the next section which contained a vague history of…somewhere never specified…and stories about various persons. The text then veered into biology, describing various plants Rathe had never seen before on earth and ending with a recipe for creating some type of extract using those plants.

She closed the book thoughtfully. Interesting at points, sure, but a zero for cohesion or clarity. Sara would not be happy. As if awaiting a hidden signal Rathe’s door cracked open.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Rathe, indicating she could enter.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” said Sara.

“Not a problem. We all have stressful days.”

Sara’s eyes shone brightly, the freckles that lined her cheeks just a hint darker than usual as she flushed. Rathe smiled, pushing back the exhaustion she felt and pulling from the endless reservoir of enthusiasm that was Ray. Sara returned the smile, albeit a bit forced, shielding something Rathe didn’t have the energy to undercover.

“So is it true?” asked Sara softly.

“What?”

“You? I heard she proposed?” Sara reached forward. A wave of dizziness passed through Rathe at their point of contact.

“Yeah,” the half-alien responded, a touch disoriented. “Um, she proposed.” Rathe shook her head, trying to clear the sudden fog that was making her forget.

“And?”

“And that’s that.”

“I see.”

An awkward silence descended, Rathe couldn’t quite figure out why it felt so strange. Or why she felt so strange…There was something nearby, another aura forcing its way in.

“I…I need to check on something,” she said. The unfamiliar aura that seemed to linger nearby was driving her to distraction, confusing her.

“Right,” said Sara, preparing to go. “Well, I’ll see you.”

“Sure,” said Rathe to the empty room. The lingering energy persisted, pounding against the back of her head, making her feel fuzzy, as though the room were stuffed with cotton towels filled with static from the dryer. She stood, and the feeling intensified. _Just get to the door_. The door bobbed in her vision, everything glowing brighter and hotter until the white light enveloped all her senses.

*

Sara flipped through images on the screen, expression intent.

“Research?” asked Amaya, sliding up behind her. The screens closed quickly, leaving only an afterimage of black and white photos and newspaper clippings.

“Sorry,” said Amaya, backing away.

“Personal project,” said Sara.

“Understood.” Amaya stepped away but Sara only watched her. “I’ll go find Nate,” Amaya suggested. She felt Sara’s eyes following her all the way off the bridge. The boys were still in the rec room, but no longer playing games.

“Oh! Is it go time?” asked Nate.

Amaya shook her head.

“Gosh, what is the hold-up?” said Ray. “I thought just a couple hours.”

“I’m not sure,” said Amaya slowly. “Did Jax finish repairs on the window?”

Nate nodded.

Amaya placed her hands on her hips. “Something isn’t right,” she said. The ship shuddered and lights blinked out, blue back-up lighting flickering on a few seconds later to reveal the sliding door to rec room door had shut.

“What’s going on?” asked Nate.

“We’re in lockdown,” said Ray. He hopped over the couch to the sealed door, checking for any gaps. “We’re trapped in here.”

Amaya’s brain whirred. “Gideon is connected to the console right?” she asked pointing to the game center.

“Yeah,” said Ray.

Amaya took a seat and switched the function over to Gideon. “Gideon? Can you hear us?”

“Hello Ms. Jiwe,” said the pleasant voice. “How may I assist you?”

“Let us out of here,” said Amaya. “Something is wrong on the ship.”

“There is nothing wrong with the ship,” responded Gideon. “I have been ordered to initiate lockdown procedures by Captain Lance. Unfortunately, my programming does not allow me to override a direct order from the captain of the ship.”

“Alright,” said Amaya, thinking furiously, “well can you tell us what else Sara has been up to? What was she looking at earlier when I came in?”

“Captain Lance requested information regarding a Miss Freda Ward.”

The Legends turned towards Nate.

“Freda Ward?” said Nate. “I’ve…never heard that name.”

“That’s not too surprising Mr. Heywood. Even a very knowledgeable historian such as yourself would have had little reason to know of Ms. Ward.”

“Ok, can you enlighten us Gideon?” asked Amaya.

“Certainly, Ms. Jiwe. Freda Ward was a young woman who is most notoriously known for being murdered at the hands of her lover, Alice Mitchell, in Memphis 1892.”

“Whoa boy,” said Ray in a low voice.

“The case made national headlines, largely for its sensationalist appeal as the prospect of jealous murder between two women was quite scandalous at the time.”

“Why would Sara care about that?” asked Amaya. “We aren’t going to that time.”

Ray’s eyes widened.

“Ray… What do you know?” asked Amaya slowly.

“Nothing,” said Ray quickly. “I know absolutely nothing.”

“Your expression doesn’t say nothing,” said Nate.

“Well, let’s be honest I know many, many things. But in this case, nothing!” He opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. “But I may have a theory. A crazy really out-there theory.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Amaya.

“Well, this one time, I was asking Rip about his adventures as a Time Master…”

“Get to the point, Ray.”

“This is relevant! Anyways, he told me some great stories, and also about a bunch of Time Master urban legends. He said the Waverider is unique because he put some windows in the side, and Time Masters typically have a thing against watching the time stream. They say, if you look into the time stream you can see the faces of people from history. And if you look too long, those time spirits might sense a connection and begin to speak to you.”

“Hold up,” interrupted Nate. “Are you about to tell us a time travel ghost story?”

“Yeah?” said Ray nervously.

“That is so cool! Please, continue.”

“I was pretty much done,” said Ray. “Rip warned me to be careful of the time spirits, because if the barrier between you and the time stream is broken, you could become possessed by their spirit and would be doomed to enact their defining moment over and over again.”

“And we know Sara broke the barrier,” said Amaya. “Do we think she’s possessed by this Freda Ward?”

“I’d say Alice Mitchell more likely,” said Nate. “Hence the obsession with Freda Ward.”

“Then aren’t we in the clear?” asked Ray. “I mean, there isn’t a Freda Ward here…”

The realization occurred to all of them simultaneously.

Amaya, Nate, and Ray leapt for the locked door, pounding against the soundproof surface, uselessly trying to warn Rathe of the danger.

*

The lights vanished, obscuring the page Rathe studied as she tried to commit the final formula to memory. She blinked in the blue emergency light, unable to discern what may have caused the power failure. The ship seemed calm, no obvious clanking or other noises to indicate engine trouble. Cautiously Rathe crept to the door. Locked. The door clicked unexpectedly and opened obligingly on her second attempt.

Weird.

Everything was eerily quiet. Rathe crept through the dark ship. A hand touched her shoulder. Rathe jumped.

“Promise you’ll love me forever,” said Sara, pressing her into the wall. The dizziness returned as everything glowed white, filling her head with static.

“Always,” said Rathe/Freda. She kissed Sara/Alice, running her fingers through her silky, straw hair. Their lips connected again, warm and damp.

“Then why are you leaving me?” asked Sara/Alice between kisses. “Why?”

“I have to,” said Rathe/Freda desperately. “I love you, but we always knew this was only temporary. It’s what we have to do.”

Sara/Alice pushed away roughly, tears in her eyes. “I won’t!” she said. “I can’t just go on. If I can’t have you, no one will!”

“You have to, Alice,” pleaded Rathe/Freda. “I know it’s hard. I never thought I’d fall in love. But her I am, and I love you.”

“And I love you,” said Sara/Alice, pulling a long thin dagger from her boot. Rathe’s eyes widened, pink as the inside of a grapefruit, tinged with purple from the setting sun.

“No,” she gasped, backing away.

“I have to be with you,” said Sara/Alice. “I can’t live knowing there’s someone else…”

The knife rose, glinting bright blue in the backup light. Rathe watched the blade helplessly as it arched in a long swing towards her neck. She turned slightly, closing her eyes, waiting for the stinging, biting impact, the hot rush of blood that would spring from her neck. The pulsing pressure that would be applied by her sister as she uselessly attempted to staunch the wound, only to be struck down by her side. Rathe saw it all, happening again and again. The final moments of Freda Ward.

Regret as sour as old milk and the color of orange cheese. The inability to live one’s life. All the things left unsaid, never to be said. Fear, not so much of death, which was inevitable for all things, but for the choices that were overlooked. Brown and red, like the stains that would mark the fated curb along the Memphis street. Stains Freda would never see but could imagine as she bled out on the misty gray morning.

And from Sara, the cloying lemon scent of cheap cleaners used at the asylum. Odor of vomit that pervaded the bathrooms there, somehow never clean despite three shifts of inhabitants charged with the task. There was no will to live once Alice realized this was all that remained. It only took three years to give up and join Freda.

Loss and regret. Over and over in tandem between these souls, destined to destroy each other over and over again with fear of the future.

Rathe/Freda reached for Sara/Alice, not to slow or stop the knife, but for one final thing to hold on to, a memory she could leave in the time stream with no regrets. The knife fell from Sara’s hand as everything swirling in a beautiful array inside of Rathe struck, coloring and flavoring the world with sensations unknown. Sara looked at Rathe with new eyes, seeing matching tears on her face.

“Do you regret it?” asked Sara/Alice in a whisper.

“Every day,” said Rathe/Freda.

The tears fell, hot on Sara’s cheeks. “So do I,” she confessed. “But I can’t stop. I need you.”

Rathe/Freda clasped her hands. “I’m not afraid anymore,” she said. “Not for me. I’m only afraid what will happen to you.”

“It wasn’t worth it,” Sara/Alice said. “Without you in the world…I couldn’t survive.”

“We can change it,” said Rathe/Freda. “I want to try this time. Even if it’s only temporary.”

“I feel everything,” said Sara/Alice with wonder. “I can feel you. What you feel.”

Sara crashed to the ground as Ray charged and tackled her, abruptly breaking the moment. Nate and Amaya followed close behind, restraining Sara further against the floor.

“What are you doing?” cried Rathe/Freda.

“Um,” said Ray, pausing. “Saving you.”

“Get off her!” Rathe/Freda waved her hand and the Legends released Sara as if struck by an electrical charge. Sara remained calm, eyes only for Rathe.

“You stayed,” Sara/Alice said.

“For as long as we have,” said Rathe/Freda, crouching to Sara’s level.

Their lips touched softly, almost chastely. The kiss deepened as the spirits sought their way to each other.

The world turned white and Sara felt herself falling into a passionate kiss with Rathe, watching the moment from afar. She returned to her body and reluctantly pulled away, Rathe’s breath hot against her cheek. They kissed again, freezing as someone coughed.

Ray, Nate, and Amaya have varying expressions of embarrassment and amusement.

Sara cleared her throat and stiffly stepped away from Rathe, who was turning red.

“What happened?” asked Sara in a formal tone. The three observers glanced at each other.

“Honestly,” said Nate. “I have no idea.”

*

A rhythmic knock came against the door. Sara buried her head under the pillow. The knock came again, same pattern, slightly more insistent.

“Come in,” Sara called. Rathe stepped inside and leaned against the closed door. She watched Sara silently for a moment. Sara covered her head with the pillow again. The memories were returning, their passionate conversation in the hallway, the obsessive emotions that possessed her. How could a damn ghost have slipped so easily into her skin? And embarrassing to have half her team watch their big scene together.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” said Rathe.

“Why are you apologizing?” Sara asked the mattress.

“Huh?”

Sara removed the pillow.

“Just don’t,” she said. “Let’s forget all of this.”

Rathe shifted between her feet.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said. “Or possible.”

“Why is that?”

“Because…” Rathe cleared her throat. “because I can’t take it back.”

“You were possessed, I think you can take it back.”

“No, the…sharing.”

Rathe stepped closer and the sense of unease in Sara’s gut grew. Rathe took another step and touched Sara’s arm. Her stomach lurched, as if riding the slow uphill at the start of a roller coaster. The air tasted red, and she smelled dirt, wet after a rain and dry in the summer, caked onto her hands after digging, with a touch of slime from the earthworms extracted from their home for inspection.

With a gasp Sara pulled her hand away. Silver gold eyes stared intently.

“That was you,” said Sara. The sensation faded as quickly as it had come, already the ability to taste and smell the aura of emotions in Rathe’s energy becoming dim.

Rathe nodded as Sara stared at the spot on her arm.

“But how? Why? I thought that must have been the spirits, or a hallucination….”

Rathe shook her head. “It was me, sort of. Freda, she…she wanted me to open up, and I guess I did.” Rathe flushed pink. “The thing is, uh, it’s irreversible. I can’t go back.”

“So…” The implications stacked up quickly. Every time they made contact, whether intentional or inadvertent, Sara would know, would feel whatever Rathe felt.

Sara felt her heart beat, slow and powerful.

“What about Alex?” Sara hated herself a little bit for the question but it slipped out anyways.

“She can feel it too,” said Rathe.

“No, I mean…” Sara gestured. “Other…stuff.”

“She proposed to her girlfriend,” Rathe said. “Not me.”

“That makes more sense,” said Sara. The weight of the past few hours seemed to thicken the silence.

“What does all this mean, for us?” Sara asked. “I mean…were we…us… while Alice and Freda were here? Or was it all them?”

“I think, they choose us,” said Rathe carefully. “Because we are in a similar position.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it? We’re on a mission to reset time. None of this will last. I will probably cease to exist.” Rathe paused. “But maybe you’re right. It would be different if…” Her throat bobbed. “…if you don’t like me.”

Sara looked down at her hands, twisting around.

“I…” she began.

Rathe extended a hand. “If you want,” she offered. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it. And you’ll feel the same from me.”

Sara released a breath.

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: The Devil in Me by Gin Wigmore


	13. Triangles

The Legends departed the Waverider into the pleasant Boston summer. The wharf rested just ahead, the USS Pickering floating calmly. Rathe escorted Sara onto the boat, waves of nervous energy flowing through her linen suit and infecting Sara’s calm. Mick and Ray followed, oblivious to the emotional thunderstorm in progress ahead.

Sara still wasn’t used to the back and forth she felt around Rathe. As soon as they were comfortably aboard Sara disengaged, giving herself some distance from Rathe.

“Everything alright captain?” asked Ray.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Rathe is just a mess because of the whole Titanic situation,” she explained.

Ray furrowed his brows. “Really? She looks fine.”

Sara glanced over. She did look fine. Zero outward appearance of her inner turmoil.

“Or…maybe I’m projecting,” said Sara.

Ray clapped her on the back. “This boat’s not going anywhere.”

“Right,” said Sara as Ray strode off, hoping to learn something about sailing during their short journey. Mick managed to already have a friend on the crew. Sara smiled. He’d fit right in. With Mick and Ray working behind the scenes and Sara and Rathe on board as passengers, they would have full access to all the goings-on. Of course, that also meant more time with Rathe, including sharing a very small cabin.

Sara’s skin began to itch at the thought. It was as if she were meeting Rathe for the first time again, that vaguely unsettled feeling that washed over her whenever they got too close. It brought up memories Sara would rather forget, and emotions she didn’t even know she had.

“I can leave.”

Sara jumped at the interruption. Rathe averted her eyes.

“You could bring one of the other Legends along.”

“No,” said Sara. “We need your empathic ability to help us navigate when we hit the Triangle.” Members of the crew hollered and cast the ropes binding the ship to harbor. “It’s too late anyways.”

“We have a time ship,” said Rathe wryly. “It’s never too late.”

Sara laughed into the blue sky and slowly departing cityscape.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” Sara said. “I want…”

She wanted desperately to be with Rathe, like this. To know her inside and out and feel the same connection from Rathe. But she wanted to bury everything else that seemed to bubble to the surface when they were together. The loss of Laurel, the half-formed nature of her resurrected soul, the memories of Lian Yu that killed something good and innocent.

_I adore all the parts of you._

Rathe stroked her shoulder and Sara felt more than heard the encouraging words, which seemed to float on the air around, enveloping her like a gentle fog. The whispers caressed her skin softly.

“What will happen when we…?” Sara asked.

Rathe smirked. “I’m ready if you are.”

*

Sara fell back against the sheets of the uncomfortable mattress, skin dotted in delicate beads of sweat as her hands raked Rathe’s head. The small room spun with color and texture but nothing more so than the creature currently between her legs. Rathe breathed red desire that would have been enough to make Sara come even without her touch. But with her touch…

Sara struggled to hold on to consciousness, aware how close she was to the edge and not wanting the moment to end, not ever. The world was inside out, upside down; too small to contain them, and too big to contemplate. Life was too long and too short; each moment a memory before it even began. Her skin exploded with waves of energy that patterned her vision until Rathe greeted her in a kiss and all became the dark, wetness of Rathe’s mouth and tongue.

Sara gasped as they parted, her breath turning to laughter as sheer joy overcame her senses. Rathe began to laugh as well, and they lay together, scarcely noticing the lumpy mattress, foreheads pressed until the feeling faded.

Sara awoke feeling remarkably refreshed despite the oddly vivid dreams that punctuated her sleep. Rathe breathed lightly against her shoulder, the smallest bit of droll on the corner of her mouth. The alien sniffed and pawed at her face without waking, legs twitching gently as she dreamed. Sara pulled the sheet up to wipe Rathe’s face, watching the sleeping creature’s body contort against some imagined foe. Rathe woke herself suddenly, eyes shifting from jet black through the color spectrum as she centered herself.

“Good dream or bad?” asked Sara, stroking her soft hair.

“Neither,” responded Rathe, laying her head back against Sara. “Just weird.”

“You don’t get visions do you?” asked Sara. “Should I be worried you’re having weird dreams the night before we enter the Bermuda Triangle?”

The Empathia shook her head.

“No, I’m just nervous.”

“I can’t imagine why,” said Sara, pulling herself out of bed and getting dressed. “At midnight this ship will vanish in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.” She tugged on a pair of trousers. “Who’s worried?” she added, grinning.

“You’re an odd duck,” said Rathe, watching her with cat eyes. “Most people would pretend to not be frightened. But you…you actually aren’t.” Rathe paused thoughtfully. “You’re fearless.”

“What does the Golden Lance have to fear?” asked Sara, leaning forward for a kiss. “Now I’m gonna go check on the boys. Make sure they haven’t gotten into any trouble and see if they’ve managed to be useful.”

The wooden door swung noisily shut.

“What indeed,” said Rathe to herself, laying back down, wondering what lay just beyond the walls Sara thought she hid.

*

The rest of the day proceeded with complete normalcy. The situation was so mediocre in every respect that Rathe wondered if they had wandered off course, perhaps they’d miss the Bermuda Triangle. Mick helpfully volunteered to cover the dreaded third shift, giving the Legends unfettered access to the ship’s control room as their deadline neared.

“What do you think happens?” asked Ray, eyes wide as possibilities zipped through his mind.

“I don’t know, Haircut,” said Mick sourly. “Maybe aliens will zap us up to their ship. Sorry, Feelings,” he added.

“Hey, it’s a possibility,” said Rathe. “Or maybe we find mermaids.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Sara. Mick snorted.

“I’m sure it’s something far less glamourous than either aliens or mermaids,” responded Sara. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Mick from behind the wheel.

“Uh, Cap?” said Ray.

“Yeah?”

The inventor pointed to the navigation dials. “We may have a problem.” While Sara had little idea what any of the dials indicated, she suspected the fact that they were all spinning was not a great sign.

“Ray? An explanation?”

“I…don’t have one,” he said. “Except to say, welcome to the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Alright, Ray you take port. Rathe to starboard, I’ll go up to the bow. Mick, try and fly this thing as straight as possible, yeah?”

The Legends dispersed to their locations. A slightly cool breeze came off the ocean, but otherwise, nothing appeared amiss. The stars in the clear sky provided a surprising amount of illumination by which to see the cresting waves. Water extended to the horizon in all directions, peaceful and relatively calm.

Suddenly, the waves shifted, swirling around the boat as if in the center of a drain. Sara tried to press her comm, but the boat tilted and she fell. The swirling rush of water grew tighter and everything, the water, boat, and Sara; shrank in size, blinking out at the last instant.

Sara landed in a cool room, perfectly square, every surface an identical shade of glowing white. Her trousers and tunic had been replaced with an all-white ensemble of generic clothing, no shoes. She was dry and unharmed. The room contained absolute silence that made her head buzz. Carefully she moved forward. Nothing impeded her movement. She reached the wall and pushed, hard. Sara blinked. She’d felt only a fraction of the resistance she expected, as if shoving a pillow instead of immovable surface. The room itself seemed to have moved with her, the wall now several feet in front, and the back wall a comparable distance closer than before.

“What is this?” called Sara. “Who are you? Come out and face me like a…demon or man or whatever the hell you are!!”

The six surfaces surrounding her vibrated slightly in an approximation of laughter.

“As you wish,” said the voice. “We shall begin.”

A shape materialized near the relocated wall, human in form and close to seven feet in height, thick muscles rippling as he twisted his neck from side to side with a glare. His deeply tan skin shone with oil that accentuated his already intimidating appearance. He carried a thick stick in one hand which he slapped against his shoulder twice before hurtling forward.

Sara stumbled into the amorphous wall, somehow managing to remain on her feet. The giant swung with his free hand, striking her cleanly under the chin. Sara’s head snapped back as she felt her feet leave the ground. The rod smacked her side as she went airborne and she fell against the solid white floor. The stick came down again, this time against her shoulder in a way that would definitely leave a welt. The second strike snapped Sara’s head into focus.

Without looking up, she rolled, hearing the stick thud against the floor where she’d been. Her arm shot out, clutching the sole weapon in this deeply unfair fight. The giant yanked it from her hand, but it was enough to shift his balance. As he rocked, Sara kicked out a leg, making contact against his enormous calf and forcing the knee to lock and break. He crumpled to the ground and Sara jumped on top of his prone body, elbows and fists transforming his face into a mass of blood within seconds.

Impossibly, the goliath pressed himself back to standing, tossing Sara aside as if she were a blanket. Sara tumbled across the disorienting room. The beast moved steadily towards her, swinging with more speed than she expected. Sara blocked the blow, taking a step back to regain balance. He was too strong to take on head to head. When he swung again, she dodged, feeling the rush of wind past her ear. She dodged again and found the gap. Her fist bounced off concrete abs. She swore the monster smiled a little through his bloodied face. Maybe she could wear him out instead.

They danced for several minutes, Sara retreating as the room obligingly shifted to keep them always more or less in its center. The fighter appeared no more winded than when they began, and in fact as Sara tired, he seemed to only grow stronger, his blows falling faster until Sara could no longer evade. His palm glanced off the back of her skull and she fell, white walls spinning. The flurry of blows from his rod came swiftly, striking against her back and side until she collapsed completely and the white walls began to turn gray.

Sara coughed and the white floor beside her hand splattered red. _No_. This couldn’t be it. Alone in some mystical white room with an inhuman fighter. Absolutely not. The blows continued but far away as if striking her from the opposite side of a mattress. He followed a rhythm. Ba-ba-bum. Ba-ba-bum.

During his next half-pause, Sara turned and grabbed the stick before it hit. The dense wood stung as it slapped her palm. She yanked overhead and the giant rolled forward over her. Sara held on and flipped with him, landing uncomfortably against his slick, muscled back, still holding one side of the stick. The beast-man roared and shook his body. Sara gripped his torso with her legs, just about the only part of her body that had not sustained significant damage. She slid against his oiled skin, every muscle aching, her palm on the verge of tearing as she held his weapon tightly.

The giant released his side of the stick as he used both hands to reach behind his back in an effort to get Sara off. Sara shimmied up as high as she could go across the broad expanse of his back, swinging the stick across the goliath’s neck, and leaning back. His contortions grew even more dramatic as he struggled to toss the persistent human. He rammed into the wall, but the unhelpful surface continued to remain neutral in their battle. Strange grunting noises emanated from his mouth as his movement slowed. He dropped to his knees, and then to the ground. Sara held the stick in place, every breath filled with agony. Even after his feet stop twitching she counted to one hundred before releasing her death hold, snapping his neck for good measure as she dismounted.

The walls vibrated with life. Despite the pain all over, Sara couldn’t resist a taunt.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked the room.

“That was one,” said the voice. “You need all three to be worthy.”

_Oh fuck_.

“Well bring it on!” said Sara, wiping the remaining blood from her mouth. “I’m ready.”

“Very well,” responded the voice.

The white surfaces around Sara faded into a haze of color, light, and shadow. Involuntarily her heart quickened. She’d know this place anywhere.

“Lian Yu,” Sara breathed. “I’ve already been here. This isn’t possible.”

The voice, the room if it was still there, said nothing. The oppressive silence of the lost island enveloped her, broken only by the occasional bird and the ever-present buzzing of insects.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sara asked the island/room. “Where is your second ugly giant-man?”

Tentatively she took a step forward. The lush undergrown felt cool and soothing against her feet. God, it even smelled like that God-forsaken island. Her white clothes, splattered with the blood of the goliath as well as her own, were much too conspicuous here. She crouched down and began to spread the damp dirt against the cloth until she had something resembling camouflage.

If the damn room wasn’t going to give her instructions she’d power ahead. Find her way off this island again. Sara crept through the jungle, pausing only twice to acquire a sapling that could double as a fighting staff as well as a pointed rock that she could sharpen, depending how long this took. The trees rustled, covering the very little noise she made. This would be easy. Another ten minutes and the shore would be in sight. An unusual tree caught her attention. Sara frowned, but continued on. Minutes passed without incident. The water should be close, why couldn’t she hear anything?

The twisted tree with the strange scar passed through her peripheral vision again. Sara froze. That was definitely the same tree. Panic squeezed in around her heart. What if she couldn’t get out? She spun about. She knew this part of the island, but at some point she kept looping back. She’d been here at least three times.

“Breathe Lance,” she chastised herself. “You survived this place before your League training.” Sure, but then she’d had company to help her out…

A wild, disheveled man came crashing through the foliage.

“Sara!” he cried.

“Oliver!” said Sara, running to greet him. Oliver Queen reached for Sara, arms outstretched. His expression froze somewhere between relief and desperation as the arrows buried into his back. In his eyes Sara saw the look of a man who knew it was his final moment. He fell to the ground, still reaching for Sara, but doomed to always be a few feet short.

“No!” Sara dropped to her knee and shook his still warm body. Void of life he felt heavier than usual. He was gone.

Sara scanned the trees for the source of the arrows, moving to where she hoped her form was obscured. A leaf twitched and she focused her attention there, trying to discern if camouflage protected the attacker from easy sight. Strong arms grasped her at the elbows.

“You’re coming with us,” said one of the men, dressed in dirty but pressed military gear. Sara hung her head and allowed them to tie her in the back of their jeep. She did her best to prop her bruised body up during the bumpy ride. Trees and brush flew by, thinning and then clearing as they reached the beach Sara had been unable to find earlier. At least something was going her way.

The guards untied her and dragged her from the jeep, down to a small boat that rested on the shore. Sara feigned exhaustion, dragging her feet and forcing them to support her and expend their energy. Once the boat was within a few feet she sprang into action, kicking one and then the other guard in the knee so they fell, and following up with a swift kick to the head. She wiggled her shoulders until she slipped the remaining rose from her hands and boarded the boat.

“I wondered when you would arrive.”

Dr. Ivo regarded Sara with interest, the face she’d once found friendly reframed as creepy with the benefit of hindsight.

“Yeah,” said Sara, “I’m not interested.”

Dr. Ivo shrugged. “We could do great things you and I.”

“Not this time,” she said, pushing away from the sandy shore. Dr. Ivo watched her pull away with a smile. Sara pulled harder against the oars. Gas hissed from beneath her bench, too late to avoid its effect. Sara slumped as the world turned gray.

She opened her eyes to the familiar slimy metal interior of the _Amazo_ , the ship that held her captive for nearly two years. She closed them, hoping this was just a dream. Nope. To make matters worse, Dr. Ivo was visible in the corner of her vision.

“Why?” asked Sara. “Why are you making me relive this?”

Dr. Ivo raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said. Idly he flicked the end of the syringe, tossing off a few droplets of excess fluid. Languidly he approached. Sara’s limbs felt heavy, filled with exhaustion. Every move took concentration. The needle pinched slightly as it entered her arm and Sara let her eyes close as the serum flooded her body.

She was still on the floor when consciousness returned. The metal drawers in their usual state of disarray, half out and overflowing. Her eyes focused slowly, coming to rest on a clock she’d never seen before. It stood out from the rest of the décor, an old-fashioned wind-up clock as compared to the otherwise utilitarian objects surrounding it on the counter. She stood, uneven at first, to take a closer look.

“Ah, you’re up,” said Dr. Ivo, entering the cramped back room.

“What did you give me?” asked Sara.

Dr. Ivo glanced at a labeled test tube. “Sample DAQ 13-2.” His eyes searched Sara. “So far you appear to be handling it better than the other test subjects,” he remarked. “But we can’t expect that to last. I’m afraid you’ve officially outlived your usefulness.” He lowered his face close to hers.

“You’re going to lose your mind,” he said. “We’ve already seen it happen in three other men that received the same serum. I can let you go, or I can make it end. Quickly. Painlessly.”

Sara jutted her chin out defiantly. At the hands of this asshole?

“Never,” she spat.

Dr. Ivo snapped and two guards materialized, grabbing each elbow in the same manner in which she’d been apprehended earlier. Flickering lights danced overhead as they dragged her through the creaking submarine and to the edge, unceremoniously dropping her off the side into the water.

The cold salt water had a bracing effect on Sara, snapping her back to her senses. She swallowed a wave before beginning to lift her sore arms over and over towards shore. She pushed the panic down far. The clock was a reminder. This was a test. It was just a test. None of this was real. Her chest heaved with relief as her fingers dug into the grainy sand of Lian Yu.

_Think_.

The interior of the island was a landmine of secret militia exercises and madmen. Best to avoid. The coast, save for the _Amazo_ , was generally safer, and the most likely point of exit. Sara studied the coastline in both directions. Her vision blurred and shifted. Guess the hallucinations had already begun. Best to move quickly. Sara spun left and jogged along the beach, scanning side to side for any possible dangers.

Shadows leapt out from the woods, taunting her, forcing countless double-backs. Finally, the woods cut back and an airfield came into view. A small plane rested on the narrow runway.

_So close_.

Sara broke into a run. Her father stepped in front of her, balding and scruffy, his face worn with long nights of worry.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, in a voice that managed to be both friendly and gruff at the same time.

“Home,” said Sara. “I’m coming home to you.”

Detective Lance shook his head sorrowfully. “I don’t think so sweetheart. That stuff they gave you… You’re not my baby girl anymore. She’s gone. You’re staying here.”

“It’s not true,” said Sara. “I’m still me. I haven’t changed.”

Her father raised an eyebrow dramatically. “Oh really?” he said. “My Sara, would she join the League of Assassins? Go around killing people as a job? I don’t think so. My Sara, she’s not a remorseless killer. Cause that’s what you are,” he emphasized. “You’re a killer.”

“I had to be,” said Sara quietly.

“Alright,” he responded. “Let’s say I believe you. You continued to kill. That’s not self-defense anymore honey. That’s something else. You’re something else.” Detective Lance jabbed a finger forcefully in her direction. He shook his head with regret and turned.

Pain rippled up from Sara’s core, more acute than any blow dealt by the giant she’d fought, or any punishment inflected by Dr. Ivo, any injury sustained during her League training. She was a killer. A weapon.

Sara gazed into the sky. But she was also a protector. The island changed her, irreparably even, but in a way that revealed her true self more than altered who she was. She’d never known her own strength until Lian Yu. Her father, her real father, knew that, and had accepted it as part of her.

“I know who I am,” said Sara. Her father looked back at her. “I know what I am. Nothing you say can change that.”

He did not respond but continued to walk away. Sara followed, boarding the small plane and strapping herself in. Her father glanced over one final time from the pilot’s seat.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It will be hard. There are easier options. This can all end.”

“I’m sure,” said Sara firmly. “Take me home.”

*

“For your final test, you must choose one.”

The plane, her father, the island all vanished, replaced by the white cube.

“What?” asked Sara.

“One must die,” said the voice. “It is your decision.”

“Alright,” said Sara. “I pick you. I’m sick of your games.”

The voice chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated through the six even surfaces around her.

“You have fifteen minutes. If you have failed to decide in that time, well… It’s best to not know.”

The vibration through the floor ceased suddenly, giving Sara the impression the owner of the mysterious voice would no longer respond to her taunts. In the two opposite corners Sara faced, forms began to appear. Directly between them a timer started, showing 15:00 and counting down each second. Involuntarily Sara clenched her fists, drawing them up close to her body defensively. Her hands dropped as the first image took shape.

“Laurel!” she cried, rushing over to her sister. Laurel’s figure grew in solidity as Sara embraced her. If this was a hallucination it was a damn good one. The being had copied Laurel’s image and movement exactly.

“How is this possible?” asked Sara. Laurel smiled reassuringly and opened her mouth to speak.

“Sara?”

Sara’s blood ran cold as she turned towards the second figure. Rathe smiled at her comfortably.

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Rathe. “How’s the test going?”

“F-f-fine,” said Sara, head rotating from Rathe to Laurel. So she had to pick one to die?

“This is fucked up,” said Sara under her breath.

“Who’s this?” asked Laurel with interest.

“Um, Laurel, Rathe. Rathe, Laurel,” said Sara, distractedly providing introductions to the two people she loved most in the world, two people that would never meet in reality. They each extended a hand pleasantly.

“Sorry,” said Sara, burying her head in her hands. “I need a minute.” She crouched to the floor, the gentle buzz of conversation between Laurel and Rathe only heightening the surreal nature of the situation.

“Laurel!” exclaimed Rathe. “It is so exciting to meet you! Sara basically worships you, though I’m sure she’s too embarrassed to tell you that.”

“Thanks,” said Sara.

“And you are...?” Laurel asked.

“Sara’s paramour,” said Rathe with a wink.

Laurel cackled. “Nice! I want to know everything!”

“Ok, but in exchange I want baby Sara stories.”

“Deal,” said Laurel.

“I want to die,” groaned Sara.

“Oh sweetie,” said Rathe, rubbing her back. “You’ve already tried that. It didn’t stick.”

“We all have,” said Sara, looking at her companions with new eyes.

Rathe watched her with uncomprehending golden eyes. Sara took her in, the lithe, rakish, newest Legend. God, she adored Rathe. She didn’t know how it happened. This infuriating alien got under her skin every time with her arrogance, pretension… But she was irresistible. She made Sara laugh. With her Sara remembered the thrill of being alive, she felt the blood move through her body and every moment became more real, an experience rather than simply passing time.

And Laurel…Her big sister, her idol. The strongest person Sara knew. It was Laurel Sara thought about every time she needed courage. Fearless Laurel. The real hero. Sara would always choose Laurel. That was a given.

The clock read ten minutes.

“I’ve decided,” said Sara to herself. Laurel and Rathe looked at her curiously. “I know how I want to spend the next ten minutes.”

“How?” asked Rathe.

“I want to watch the two of you talk.”

“Really?” asked Laurel. “Every embarrassing story about you?”

“Don’t leave a single one out,” said Sara, settling in as comfortably as she could onto the floor.

The precious minutes flew by as Sara tried to commit every second, every shared laugh to memory. With five seconds to go she stood. On cue, the walls rumbled.

“Have you decided?”

“I have,” confirmed Sara.

She took a breath. “I choose myself.”

The room made no response.

“Me,” Sara said again. “I said I choose myself to die.”

“What?” asked Laurel in a panic. “You can’t! Take it back! Me! She meant me!”

Rathe yelled as well, but Sara couldn’t hear.

“I choose me,” Sara repeated, more loudly.

The cries of Laurel and Rathe vanished suddenly. The all-white surrounding faded into a small dimly lit room. Sara sat in a comfortable chair, partially reclined with a hemispherical machine surrounding the top of her head. The cap retracted from her head and Sara stood, muscles no longer sore from her fight, cuts and bruises nonexistent. She blinked at the tall green Martian before her.

“John, right?” she asked.

“J’onn,” he corrected. “I’d congratulate you,” he added, “except it seemed a given that the designer of our security system would make it through.”

“Excuse me?” said Sara.

J’onn smiled and spread his hands. “All this was you,” he said. “About a year after leaving Area 51, you brought me here. I hope you’ll find I have served well.”

Sara shook her head with a half-laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to refresh my memory,” said Sara. “I haven’t done that yet.”

J’onn’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Time travel?” Sara offered.

J’onn’s confusion deepened. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, anyway, you brought me here. Asked me to look over the city and oversee the triangle protocol to ensure only those of worth could enter. Those that could pass the tests of the hands, head, and heart.”

“And the city?” asked Sara.

“Of course, Captain Lance,” said J’onn. He retreated to the sole window in the room and pulled back the curtain.

Sara gasped. Stunning white columns extended up through the clear blue, bright green vegetation hanging decoratively. Roofs glinted with hints of gold that shimmered under the sunlight shifting through the ocean water. Brightly colored fish of all patterns and sizes swam by, as unconcerned by the people and aliens as the people were of the underwater sea life. Everyone and everything appeared relaxed and comfortable, none the worse for their location underwater. J’onn gazed at the scene with an expression of intense satisfaction.

“Welcome to Atlantis, Captain.”


	14. Paradise Lost

“Each visitor is allowed one companion,” said J’onn. “Of the three that arrived with you, whom do you choose?”

“Rathe,” said Sara, without thinking. Truthfully, she’d gotten so used to the steady presence of the alien that her absence left her feeling vaguely unsettled. J’onn nodded. “She shall be spared.”

“Wait,” said Sara. “What happens to the others?”

“Those who enter the portal but fail the test go to the null zone,” said J’onn. “They cease to exist.”

“Ray and Mick? No, you have to send them back to the Waverider.”

“Impossible,” said J’onn.

“I brought you here, didn’t I?” said Sara. “I set the rules. I say they make it through with me.”

J’onn considered the defiant human. “You don’t set all the rules. But I can keep them in holding,” he compromised. “Upon your departure, they may leave with you and the Empathia.”

Sara inclined her head in assent. It would have to do.

J’onn escorted her from the dark testing room into a marble hallway with high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked the beautiful underwater civilization. J’onn paused at a desk to issue some instructions in a hushed tone before leading Sara down the rest of the hallway and out the grand front entrance.

The stairs led down directly into the town center, cobblestone street revealed upon closer inspection to consist of shells of all varieties. The shelled ground surrounded a centerpiece fountain, bubbling air from the mouths of two angels. Sara stood between the two great center columns, taking it all in. The water seemed to scarcely touch her, the temperature perfectly matched her own skin and she moved as easily as if on the surface.

“How?” asked Sara. “How did Atlantis come to be here? How do they survive?”

“Ancient magical knowledge,” said J’onn, descending the staircase regally. “Sustained by alien technology, offering these people and the aliens of Earth-1 a welcoming place that accepts all.”

The blue ocean sky rippled as a school of fish swam above.

“It’s beautiful.”

“The most beautiful place in the universe,” agreed J’onn. “Atlantis is the purest paradise there is.” He cleared his throat and Sara turned. Rathe stared, open-mouthed at the top of the stairs. Sara ran to her.

“Do you see this?” Sara asked.

“I think so,” said Rathe. “But it also feels like a dream.”

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” said J’onn. “But know this: Atlantis was designed this place as a paradise, a place of retreat for the heroes that have already done their part.” He looked tenderly at the two Legends.

“Someday that may be you. But for now I urge you to conduct your business quickly.” J’onn paused on the final step.

“Outside of the confines of this building,” he cautioned, “Atlantis will bring you all of your desires, it will bend to your will and every whim. Once you cross this threshold, you will have to remain steadfast and return of your own volition. I will not be able to bring you back.”

J’onn placed a hand on each of their shoulders and with a pat, returned to the city center. With a quick glance at Rathe, Sara moved from the final step onto the cobbled surface of the plaza.

Pure, unbridled happiness overcame Sara, minor worries washed away by the sheer beauty and novelty of their surroundings. Everything was perfect, the varied creatures of the city, the pleasant water and gentle current, the air filled with peace.

Sara saw her life stretched before her, long, languid days that extended into years of underwater wonder and calm; an end to the violence and uncertainty that defined her life to date. She could get a house, maybe with Rathe. They would sleep in on weekends, waking early but laying together in bed for hours as they talked and made love. They’d go for long walks with their dogs, or perhaps a more exotic pet such as dolphins. Rathe would keep a garden, and Sara would spend the summer evenings pretending to read in the yard, but really just watching Rathe as she tended to their vegetables and flowers. When she grew tired of long walks Sara would teach the children of Atlantis fighting basics, and return in the evening to a home-cooked meal.

Sara squeezed Rathe’s hand.

“You know we can’t,” said Rathe quietly.

Unexpectedly a tear sprang to Sara’s eye at the brutal unfairness of it all. What required her to take on all this hardship on behalf of the world? The single tear rested against her eye, slightly obscuring her vision but not falling.

Rathe returned the squeeze. Green and blue sympathy, the smell of sweat, rusted iron, and the taste of hot food gone cold. Pain stabbed Sara’s chest. Such was the life they choose. She closed her eyes and took in the Atlantean air that smelled of lavender and orange trees.

“Alright,” she said. “What do we need to do?”

Rathe pointed to the elaborate gardens that lined the wide streets.

“We need to find the plants described in the Voynich manuscript,” she said. “We’ll need a basket.”

“A basket?” asked an older woman, sitting by the fountain. She smiled kindly. “Take one of mine,” she offered. “It’s hand woven, for whatever that’s worth, but I’ve got so many I’ll be glad to give it away and know it’s going to use.”

Flabbergasted Sara accepted the gift.

“Oh!” said the woman as she handed it off. “I should mention that the basket contains fruits and cheeses. I sell baskets of them for picnickers headed to the gardens. I do hope that’s alright.”

“That sounds amazing,” said Rathe.

“And I do sell wine as well for the more romantically inclined,” she added with a wink. “I must say you two make an adorable couple. But since you have just arrived I suspect you may not have an account yet, so I’ll just toss that in for free.”

Rathe’s jaw dropped comically as the woman passed the bottle over.

“I think we’re all set,” said Sara, unable to stop grinning at Rathe’s stunned expression. She tugged on Rathe’s elbow, picnic basket swinging from her arm.

“Who knows,” said Sara, “we might actually have some fun on this trip.”

*

“Uh…guys?” called Nate. Jax snapped to attention as Professor Stein set down his book.

“Everything alright?” asked Professor Stein.

“Maybe…” said Nate. “The thing is, the team just went offline.”

“Offline?” asked Jax. “Like they turned off comms?”

“No, it’s more than that. See even if they shut off comms we can still track them. But here is one minute ago, each dot represents them, all awake, now they disperse…and them boom! They all blink out. In fact…” Nate zoomed out. “The entire boat vanished. Every single person.”

The satellite image showed an empty ocean with no sign of incident.

“Well we knew something would happen,” said Jax. “History says the boat disappears.”

“Yeah, but not this! This is…. nothing! No storm, no sea monster, just there one minute and gone the next.”

“Hey guys! What’s going on?” Ray strode onto the bridge, smiling broadly.

“You tell us,” said Nate. He pointed at the screen. “You guys vanished. Where are the others?”

Ray shrugged as he sat in Mick’s usual seat.

“I assume Sara got through,” he said. “Hopefully she’ll be back soon.”

“Through?” repeated Professor Stein.

“There’s a test,” Ray explained. “To get to the next step.”

“Are we to assume you failed?” asked Professor Stein.

“Alas,” said Ray.

“So the others….” said Jax. “They made it?”

“Besides Sara?” Ray said, appearing momentarily confused. “Right. Well, if they aren’t here…” He shrugged again. “I had this device to help me out.” Ray pulled the smooth time orb from his pocket, looking at it with a proud smile.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Ray continued. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll take over for a bit.”

“I don’t know, man,” said Jax. “They’re just gone. Shouldn’t we do something?”

Ray snapped his fingers, pointing into the distance.

“You guys can recon,” he suggested.

“I’m not really the ‘recon’ type,” said Professor Stein.

“That’s fine,” said Jax. “Steel and I will go. You good to take the wheel Ray?”

Ray nodded. “Absolutely.” He moved from Mick’s seat to the captain’s chair, idly skimming in the open screen with the translated Voynich text.

“You know we have copies printed,” said Professor Stein. “I myself much prefer to read these things the old-fashioned way.”

“That would be great,” said Ray. Professor Stein handed the eager inventor a bound copy as Nate and Jax returned.

“Alright, we’re going down,” said Nate. “We’re on comms and will let you know when we need a lift back up. Cool?”

“Cool,” said Ray. “I’ll be here.”

Nate and Jax walked out on the exit ramp as Ray hoovered the Waveride low over the ocean. The two Legends tossed a small raft into the choppy water. Nate boarded the raft, while Jax, decked out in scuba gear, hopped directly into the waves, disappearing below the foamy whitecaps.

Ray lifted the Waverider to give them space. He glanced at the Professor. Professor Stein smiled in return. Smoothly Ray extracted a small disc from his pocket.

“Sorry about this,” said Ray. The device emitted a high-pitched patterned frequency, beyond the range of human hearing. Professor Stein collapsed to the floor. Quickly Ray spun his chair to the screen, scanning the Waverider’s files for the information he needed.

“Mr. Palmer,” said Gideon, “may I help yo–” The artificial intelligence abruptly paused as Ray disengaged her override capabilities.

“Let’s clear out of here,” he muttered, pulling back the throttle on the Waverider and pulling away from the two Legends below.

Amaya entered the bridge rubbing her ears.

“Did anyone else hear that?” she said. “Some kind of crazy feedback.” She paused as Professor Stein’s prone body came into view.

“Ray!” Amaya called. “Professor Stein is on the floor. Did you see what happened?”

Ray turned in surprise.

“How many of you are there?” he exclaimed.

“Ray?” she asked. Amaya touched her necklace, the image of a giant tiger appearing around her briefly. Her eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” she asked in a low tone. “What have you done with Raymond Palmer?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Ray, stepping out of the pilot’s chair and tripping as he backed away from the ferocious woman.

The tiger form reappeared as Amaya leapt forward, a roar emanating from somewhere deep within. With no pilot and Gideon offline, the Waverider tilted precariously. The comms crackled, Nate’s voice just barely coming through.

“Where are you going?” Nate asked, panic evident through the static.

Amaya aborted her tackle, moving swiftly to the pilot’s seat to take control of the time ship.

“Got this Gideon?” asked Amaya as she brought the computer back online.

“All set Ms. Jiwe.”

Amaya turned back to the wide-eyed imitation of Ray. He clutched a copy of the translated Voynich in his hand. As she approached he began to laugh, a mean-spirited laugh unlike anything she’d ever heard from Ray.

The false Ray shook his head ruefully. “Guess this wasn’t a one-stop deal,” he said. “Not to worry. Our paths shall cross again when it’s time.” He extracted a time orb from his pocket.

“No,” said Amaya, sprinting to close the gap.

Ray blinked off the ship, vanishing in a haze of green light. Amaya stood, panting where he had lain. She moved to Professor Stein, still breathing, but unconscious, no apparent injuries.

“Nate, Jax,” she said. “I think you should both come back aboard.”

*

Sara and Rathe spent the day lounging in the soft sea-grass around the plaza, touring the gardens of Atlantis once the food and wine were consumed. They quickly filled their woven basket with samples of all the plants Rathe could remember, adding some additional ones that were merely of interest to the alien. As the ocean turned darker shades of blue and navy, Rathe moved slower and slower, the irresistible tug of the magical city infusing every step with reluctance. The air pulled them in soft sand in bare feet, sinking and soothing, an unhurriedness and urge to let time slide.

The ocean deepened in tone from navy to nearly black. In the distance fish and jellies began to glow against the darkness, creating the effect of ocean stars. At first there were just a few, but the few became many until it wasn’t just fish, but plants that lit the underwater city with their bioluminescence, bright enough that no light was necessary to see their way through the garden and around the city streets.

As if by spoken agreement, Sara and Rathe returned to the town center, strolling through the cooling evening, unworried despite their lack of plan. Without surprise, Sara pointed to the open inn, right where she would have wanted to stay, alongside the gorgeous city garden and within view of the city plaza where they’d entered.

“You made it,” said the pleasant manager at the door. “I was just beginning to worry. Dinner is being served now.” He ushered them into the dining room. The large room flickered in the glow of an oversized fire, burning impossibly in the warm ocean water. Wafts of current from the rafters spread the scent of roasted seabirds and seafood seasoned with fragrant herbs. Other guests chatted comfortably at a low volume interrupted only by the occasional burst of laughter and clink of dishware.

Their host led them to a table for two near the roaring fire. Sara shivered in the much warmer room, reveling in the slightly-too-hot nearness of the flames. Her face pinked with warmth as the serving staff spun around them in a dance, offering and depositing food onto their plates if they were not quick enough to decline. Rathe selected a white wine from the proffered list and Sara let the buzz of the fire fill her head as Rathe discussed the virtues of the various varietals and vintages with the sommelier. Sara sipped the cool, tart wine as Rathe’s eyes, even more golden with the light from the fire, shone with delight. The somm appeared equally delighted at the knowledgeable guest and brought the couple two additional glasses of a particularly rare bottle.

“Remember, it’s just this night,” said Sara, fighting the fuzziness the warm air and wine were bringing.

Rathe raised her glass. “To this night,” she said grandly. “May it never end.”

“I’ll toast to that,” agreed Sara. The crystal glasses clinked, a delicate echo ringing through the large dining room. The two women smiled and tipped back their glasses.

*

“What the hell?” said Nate marching aboard. “Where is Ray? I can’t believe he tried to leave us there!”

“I know, I know,” said Amaya. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t Ray.”

“What?” asked Jax, wetsuit dripping on the floor.

Amaya rubbed her temples. “Why don’t you guys get changed and then we’ll talk. Something’s gone wrong.”

The two Legends changed swiftly, meeting Amaya back on the bridge as she completed a full scan of the ship with Gideon. She leaned back in the pilot’s chair and sighed.

“Well,” she said, “the good news is we are the only people on the ship. Well, us and the Professor.”

“Hey,” said Jax, glancing around. “Where is Grey?”

“Fake Ray took him out,” said Amaya. “I’m not quite sure how. He seems fine, just unconscious, almost like he’s in a deep sleep cycle. Gideon is monitoring him in the medbay.”

Jax swore under his breath.

“What kind of person takes out an old dude?” he asked indignantly. “I mean, how much of a jackass do you have to be?”

“I agree,” said Amaya. “But also, if that Ray was a fake…”

“Then where is the real one,” finished Nate, the implication crawling across his face. “Crap.”

“Yeah.”

The group pondered in silence.

“Man, if only we could reverse engineer the time orb,” said Jax. “You know, instead of a getaway thing it could be a call-back. Like a star 69 but, you know, fancy.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Amaya.

“Except that’s kind of Ray’s domain,” said Nate. “You know, the impossible technology stuff.”

“Or Grey,” added Jax. “But he’s out of commission.”

“We’re forgetting one key asset,” said Amaya. The two men stared at her blankly. “We have a super-intelligent computer at our disposal.”

“Would that work?” asked Jax.

“Certainly,” responded Gideon. “I need only a command from to attempt such a move.”

“Alright Gideon,” said Amaya. “Consider this your request. Can you reverse engineer a time orb to bring Fake Ray back so we can question him?”

“I shall do my best Ms. Jiwe. I can certainly go through my logs and determine if the time orb used by the imposter Mr. Palmer had a unique electronic signature. If that is the case I may be able to reconstruct something by reversing the settings on our receiving pad.”

“Try it,” said Amaya. “In the meantime, we should take shifts so we don’t miss any attempt by the rest of the team to communicate. We still have no idea what happened to them and for now, all we can is be ready when they call.”

*

Sara curled into Rathe, the half-alien squeezing her tightly, breath hot against her neck, their skin slightly damp from the evening’s exertions.

“Are you happy?” asked Rathe quietly. Sara turned in the embrace.

“I would think you wouldn’t need to ask that,” she teased. “Losing your touch?”

Rathe nuzzled into Sara’s cheek. “Har har,” she said. “No. You feel sad. I’m not sure why.”

The dark room embraced Sara like a blanket. She felt hidden, invisible, comforted. Part of her wanted to stay here forever, that was true. But something was missing.

_Family. Friends. Purpose._

She nuzzled Rathe back, preferring to not speak and knowing Rathe would understand.

“Ok,” said Rathe quietly. “Ok.”

They awoke in the large bed having kicked off the comforter in the middle of the night. Shimmering morning light streamed through the open window.

“What should we do today?” Sara turned to see a wide-awake Rathe grinning at her. “Gardens again? Or maybe excursing a bit further out?”

“We need to…” Sara frowned. She couldn’t remember. There was something she’d wanted to do today. Something she’d felt very strongly they needed to do, but the notion had evaporated. She shook her head.

“Sara.”

Sara opened her eyes into the dappled ocean-filtered sun. The imposing figure stood, arms crossed, platinum blonde hair and beard waving in the current, scaled emerald tail occupying his lower half where legs should be.

“Orin,” said Sara. She blinked as the name passed her lips. Had they met? They had. But they hadn’t.

“This is a memory,” said Sara.

“An impression,” corrected Orin. “In the true timeline we’ll cross paths when you return to work with the Justice League. Another impression, one of your current timeline, will lead you to Area 51 to free the aliens imprisoned beneath the dessert. It’s how J’onn came to be in charge of my security here.”

“Wow this is confusing,” said Sara. “Something I did in another timeline is impacting me now?”

Orin chuckled. “Individuals such as you and I exist outside of time. Our actions occasionally cross the divide between timelines. You see, some things are just meant to be.”

He leaned in close, extending a hand. “It’s time to leave. Your team needs you.”

Sara blinked, the memory/impression/vision of Orin fading into Rathe’s expectant expression. Sara kissed Rathe’s hand.

“Why don’t you grab the basket,” she said. “I think we’ll need it.”

*

Nate slumped over the console, exhausted. He’d just relieved Amaya from watch and so far, so boring. Usually she would keep him company but with only three of them for the foreseeable future she’d thought it prudent to get some sleep. Curse being attracted to such an intelligent, thoughtful woman.

“Mr. Heywood?” Nate jumped at Gideon’s sudden voice.

“Y-y-yes, Gideon?” he replied as coolly as possible.

“I hope I haven’t disturbed your nap,” the artificial intelligence responded.

Nate cocked his head. Was that snark?

“Not at all. Just resting my eyes,” he said. “Any update?”

“Actually yes,” said the computer. “I believe I have determined a way to call back the imposter Mr. Palmer. Would you like me to do so now or wake the others first?”

More snark? Nate was beginning to suspect Gideon didn’t think much of him. Or maybe she’d ask anyone the same question. He chose to believe the latter.

“Let’s wake the whole team,” Nate agreed. “Then we’ll go for it.”

“Very well Mr. Heywood.”

Jax and Amaya entered the bridge a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

“We’re really gonna try this?” asked Jax.

“I think we should,” said Amaya. “Whoever it was, they opted to jump rather than fight me. They’re relying on technology. If we catch them off guard, I’m pretty sure we can take them down.”

“Copy that,” said Jax. “I’m ready crack this bastard’s skull.”

“Let’s go, Gideon,” said Amaya.

The main console whirred and the lights across the ship flickered as Gideon temporarily redirected power. The spot in the corner where Fake Ray had vanished began to pulse with light, his form appearing and fading almost too quickly to perceive. The lights flickered again and the ship groaned.

Sara, Rathe, Ray, and Mick appeared on the receiving pad in the opposite corner. The other three Legends turned.

“Hey!” said Nate. “Welcome back!”

A crack ripped through the ship, causing everyone to duck involuntarily and cover their ears. In the opposite corner crouched a short, rotund man of middle-age, expression of arrogance and self-pity.

“Hogsflume,” said Sara. The strange man looked down, seeing which form he’d taken.

“Von Hogsflume,” corrected the imposter. He bowed to the remaining Legends. “Jacob Von Hogsflume, inventor of time travel.”

“Yeah, and causer of the end of the world,” added Ray.

“You’re thinking of Kieran Mallory, although I’ll admit once I called him an associate. Years before the end-of-the-world stuff though.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Sara. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to congratulate you on your success. You’re the first I’ve seen pass the three trials. I’d _love_ to know you saw in the test of the head.”

Von Hogsflume looked a Sara with a smug expression. “But more importantly, what did you bring back?”

Instinctively, Rathe swung the basket behind her back.

“I should have guessed,” said Von Hogsflume, stepping forward confidently. “Too many pages of plants for it to not mean something.”

“Not another step,” said Amaya. “You’re way outnumbered.”

“That’s right,” added Sara, stepping in front of Rathe. “Don’t even try.”

“I’m hardly trying my dear,” said Von Hogsflume. “Between the translated Voynich and your plants, I’ll have everything I need. I feel I should thank you,” he said to Sara.

“Well,” he added with a look at Ray, “and you.”

“What?” asked Ray.

“He faked his way on here with your image,” said Jax. “That’s how he got the manuscript.”

“And how I set the return trigger,” said Von Hogsflume. “Since it’s all useless without the final ingredients here. I just needed an image you would all trust. That puppy dog face was perfect. And easily replicated from the logs in my flat.”

“Hey!” said Ray, indignantly. “Or was that a compliment? But still, hey!”

Amaya growled, the form the tiger outlining her image in a warning.

“Sounds like my cue,” said Von Hogsflume. Sara lunged to attack but time suddenly slowed to a near standstill. As she fell forward in her leap, Von Hogsflume strolled between the frozen Legends. He circled Sara and with a smirk, detached the basket filled with the precious Atlantean plants from Rathe’s arm. Sara continued to move in slow-motion, still mid-leap as he returned to his point of origin, extracted the time orb, and vanished. Abruptly time sped up, as if making up for the temporary slow-down. Sara landed hard and tumbled forward, crashing into Amaya.

In the silence, Sara’s heart beat loudly in her ears. Blood rushed to her face as the fury boiled up from the bottom of her gut.

“What. The. Hell. Just happened?” said Sara slowly.

Rathe stared at her hands. “We lost it,” she whispered. “It’s gone.” She covered her face with her hands, breath ragged.

“You got the plants?” asked Nate.

“We had them in the basket,” said Sara. “Please don’t tell me…”

“They make a formula,” said Rathe between gasps. She took a shaky breath. “The Voynich calls it the potion of timelessness. I did some research and I think in addition to resetting time, the formula can be consumed and grants the individual infinite life.”

“The fountain of youth,” said Ray, eyebrows high.

Rathe nodded.

“Captain,” said Gideon. “Please pardon the interruption, but I would be remise if I neglected to add myself to the list of culpable parties.”

“Gideon you had nothing to do with this.”

“Unfortunately, Captain, that does not appear to be true. The signature left by Mr. Von Hogsflume’s time orb was, as he indicated, temporally-triggered for him to return with you. I’m afraid in pursuing that option we played right into his hand.”

“We all did,” said Sara with a sigh. She closed her eyes. This world felt so harsh, the light too bright, smells overpowering, and every surface so hard and unyielding.

“Captain?”

“Yes Gideon?” Sara replied, eyes still closed.

“We appear to be receiving a message. Shall I intercept?”

Sara opened a single eye. Who the hell would be contacting them? Unless it was Von Hogsflume to gloat. Maybe Gideon could trace it back, help them hunt the bastard down.

“We’ll take it,” said Sara. The monitor went dark momentarily before revealing a youngish man with bland features and close-cut brown hair.

“The Golden Lance herself,” said the face.

“Mallory,” responded Sara, heart sinking. “I’ve had an epically bad day, so make this quick.”

“Your bad day is precisely the reason I am calling,” said Mallory. “You see, I too am having a bad day. And I find myself in the odd position of, for the time being, wanting the same thing as you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jake,” sneered Mallory. “Hogsflume. He double crossed me, and I’ve just learned he has the ingredients to concoct the potion of timelessness. In his typically short-sighted manner, he will waste this precious item on himself. You and I have loftier ambitions.”

“And what would that be?” asked Sara.

Mallory opened his arms wide with a surprisingly charismatic smile.

“To make the world a better place,” he said. “Admittedly, we have different ideas regarding what that entails, but I’ll make you this deal. I have technology and personnel that can aid in tracking him down, but your band has proven effective at delivering the results. You help me, and we determine through a fair, non-violent review who is entitled to the final product.”

Sara scoffed at Mallory. “Why should I believe you? Every historical record I’ve seen shows you and Hogsflume thick as thieves. And even if you’re not working with him now, you’d just as soon steal the formula once we’ve recovered it.”

“By the way,” said Amaya, popping her head into frame. “We’ve done all the work on this. I don’t see how you deserve anything.”

Mallory gazed seriously into the camera. “I give you my oath that I only want to keep it from Hogsflume,” he said. “It’s true, he was a dear friend to me. But the time came when he wanted something I could not give. The falling out was…painful. I shall cede any claim I make on the formula on one condition. I ask only that before you continue with your plan, you visit my lab and see my proposed plan for a new history of humankind. Give me one chance to convince you, and if you are not, then such is history.”

Mallory extended his hand towards the camera, solemnly waiting for Sara’s response. Sara gazed steely eyed into the camera above the monitor. She really had no other option, but it felt good to make Mallory sweat it out for a minute or two.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Like Real People Do by Hoizer


	15. Odd Couples

The Legends stood in a stiff semi-circle on the bridge, the footsteps of their visitors growing closer. Kieran Mallory appeared first, just as plain and unremarkable in person as he appeared over the video call. Close behind him followed a slim woman of Asian descent, neat dark hair falling smoothly down her back and a penchant for pushing her thin rim glasses up her nose when nervous. A rotund figure followed, easily recognized from history books and one of their earlier missions as Da Vinci. A parade of figures Sara thought were gone followed, Rasputin, slinking along with his wild beard, Alexander the Great with the one blue eye and one brown; and Jack the Ripper with his bland forgettable face except for the creepy sneer that emerged as he saw the Legends. Trailing the group by several feet sauntered an attractive man with a vaguely familiar face that Sara struggled to place. Mallory’s Greats completed the awkward semi-circle on the bridge.

“Not to be rude,” said Sara, “but I’m pretty sure some of you are dead. And not just a history thing, although that too, but dead as in I was there. In some cases I killed you.”

Mallory smiled. “It’s true, you reduced my team by three. But for the purpose of this I decided the risk to the timeline was worth it. Either one of us is able to correct it or…” Mallory let his hands fall open to indicate the alternative wasn’t worth considering.

Sara eyed the crew of “greats” suspiciously.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“I would expect no less,” responded Mallory. “That’s why I went back for my missing members. I thought it would be most productive if we teamed up. Think about it: Legends and the Greatest. All the makings of history there.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Save it. I want to know what each of you bring to the table. I’ll pick the Legend you work with.”

“Excellent. And of course I presume I will get the opportunity to work with you,” said Mallory.

God he was a sneaky one. Sara couldn’t avoid it now and if he was shadowing her she’d have a hard time keeping him out of the loop.

“Of course,” she responded.

Mallory inclined his head. The last of the Greats to enter looked bored. Once the exchange between Sara and Mallory seemed complete he jumped forward, clearly longing for the spotlight and opportunity to impress the Legends.

“Dr. Henry Heywood IV,” he said, grin sliding across his face dangerously close to smirking territory. “Renowned historian specializing in the strange and unusual. Widely considered the brightest in a long line of celebrated academics…”

“Heywood!” interrupted Nate. Sara could place it now too. That jawline was all Nate.

Henry Heywood cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, somewhat arrogantly. “Who exactly are you?”

Nate’s face broke into a wide grin. “I’m your….” He counted fingers. “Ok I’m not quite sure what, but I’m your ancestor. Do you know what this means?” Nate added looking at the Legends in excitement. “I’m gonna be a daddy!!!”

Henry’s face fell as the novelty and attention immediately switched from him to the Heywood that would bring the family into repute.

“Well I think we found our first set of partners,” said Sara wryly. Nate pumped his fist as the future Heywood tried unsuccessfully to hide his irritation.

Jack stepped forward next. Mick growled in the back of his throat.

“Listen buddy,” Mick said. “None of us here like you. I’m gonna take you as a partner just so I make sure your ass gets a proper kick if you step out of line.”

“Efficiently done Mick,” said Sara. “Moving along. Who wants Alexander?”

The Legends glanced at each other.

“I think this may be appropriate for Firestorm, Captain,” said Professor Stein. “Firestorm should be able to match or exceed any amount of firepower and strategic thinking on their side.”

“Works for me. Anyone dying to work with a crazy Russian mystic?” Sara’s eyes slid to Rathe, who gave a small nod.

“Oh, oh!” said Ray. “Please can I have Da Vinci. Pleeeease!”

“We’re not picking kickball teams, Ray,” said Sara. “All yours.”

“Woo!” said Ray, pumping a fist.

“Guess that leaves me and you,” said Amaya to the nervous Chinese woman. Dr. Gao nodded quickly before pushing her glasses up her nose.

Sara crossed her arms. “There,” she said. “Everyone is paired off, anything we learn you’ll know and vice versa. What do you have on Hogsflume’s location?”

Mallory stood from his semi-reclined position. “He uses a special model time orb,” Mallory said. “It can function almost like a time ship in that it can go to multiple locations.”

“Yeah, we learned that the hard way,” said Sara. “He’s got a time ship. How does that help.”

“Almost like a time ship,” Mallory emphasized. “The orb can be programmed for several locations and times, but there is a limit to what the time orb can hold.” He smiled thinly. “I happen to know several of his favorite places. We simply need to check the remaining ones and reclaim what is ours.”

Sara narrowed her eyes, scanning the faces of his team. Something didn’t add up, but none of them seemed perturbed.

“Why?” asked Sara. “Why not just check them out yourself?”

Mallory sucked on his lip thoughtfully.

“The times we have cleared from our list are the easy ones. Places Jacob would go to retreat and live for a time. The remaining options are…tricky.”

“Tricky how?” pressed Sara.

“They exist on the precipice of disaster,” said Mallory. “Time is limited because from the instant one arrives there is a ticking clock until near-certain death.”

Involuntarily Sara grinned.

“Once we find him, we get one shot.”

*

Impatiently Sara tapped her foot. Being saddled with Mallory meant no reconnaissance for her. Annoyingly, Mallory didn’t seem to care, almost relishing his role as manager and not getting his hands dirty. But for Sara it was agonizing. For every team member that reported no sign of Von Hogsflume in time X or Y, there was an accompanying sorry about witnessing Pompeii in its final moments, the epic earth-shifting of the Cascadia event, savings thousands of lives before future terrorists could strike, and so many other one-in-a-lifetime moments. Rathe in particular seemed to vibrate with excitement as she described talking down a suicide bomber, even exchanging a smile with the gruff Rasputin who appeared oddly taken with the alien that beat him to death in a previous life.

_Seriously Lance?_

Talk about all the wrong reasons to be jealous.

“So you didn’t find Hogsflume,” Sara interrupted.

Rathe paused in her story, hands mid-flight. “Well, no,” she said, “but –”

“But we don’t have a lot of time here,” said Sara. “Out and back until you see something and we can send the whole team…Both teams in.”

Rathe nodded, chastised.

“That seemed harsh,” remarked Mallory. Sara glanced at him, trying to discern his meaning. Mallory raised his eyebrows. “We’re always meanest to the ones we love,” he added.

Sara drew in a breath sharply. Christ, was it that obvious?

Mallory chuckled under his breath.

“Oh come now,” he said, spinning his chair to more directly face Sara. “I’ve a heart. I know a thing or two about how these things go, even if Von Hogsflume would believe otherwise.”

“Hogsflume?” asked Sara in confusion. “What does he have to do with….” She trailed off as the meaning became clear. Sara leaned back, crossing her arms.

“You and Von Hogsflume,” she said. “I knew there was something more going on.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” retorted Mallory. “There is nothing. But such is the source of the problem.”

“You turned him down,” said Sara. “Same thing as far as I’m concerned.”

“He got the wrong impression,” said Mallory. “He’s always been a bit of fool. How ironic that the inventor of time travel should have so little awareness of the past and so little curiosity to imagine the future.” Mallory chuckled again.

“You’re an ass,” said Sara with disgust. She turned from Mallory with annoyance. Of course Von Hogsflume and Mallory were an item…ish. They were both equally disgusting and amoral. Both selfish assholes. She glanced back to Mallory. Especially him. Maybe Von Hogsflume was an idiot, but Sara could sympathize with the stupidity of falling in love, even when there was no happy ending in store. With the ability to time travel and endlessly recreate his story, he probably thought he could somehow change the ending. Sara shook her head. Mallory was right. Von Hogsflume was an idiot. But no more an idiot than she had been at times.

“Wait,” said Sara.

Mallory glanced up from the monitor.

“Call everyone back,” said Sara. “I know where he went.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Mallory, rising from his seat, brow furrowed.

“Cause some of us understand love better than others,” she retorted.

*

The Legends and Greats crowded onto the bridge, chatter overlapping as they exchanged tales and introduced their partners to others on their respective teams. Sara smiled. It was almost cozy if she could forget how creepy Mallory and at least a handful of his associates were. Jack slunk towards the fringes of the group, no one from either party interested in getting to know him better. Sara clapped her hands loudly.

“Alright listen up!” she called. The group silenced surprisingly quickly.

“I know where Hogsflume is,” she began. Her voice quaked slightly and she chastised herself internally. _Get it together_. All these people, looking to her for guidance and direction. All so she could bring about another the start of a new timeline where none of them might exist, if just a few things went differently. If they failed to take out Hogsflume. But it was also a death sentence for this version of Legends and Greats. She would have to tell them all it was ending. She felt Rathe reaching, extending confidence and strength. Sara steeled her nerves.

“We’re going to the end of the world,” she said. “Our mission is simple. Find Hogsflume, get the formula, pull out before the world goes boom.” Sara looked around. “Any questions?”

The room paused and slowly fourteen hands raised tentatively in the air.

“How exactly does the world end?”

“Do we know he has the formula?”

“How long?”

“Are there flying cars?”

“What’s a car?”

“Can we use our powers?”

Sara held up two hands and the clamor ceased. Mallory suppressed laughter.

“I’ll handle this,” he said. “Flying cars – no. Always a pipe dream. Nuclear war is the official reason for the end of the world. Yes, Hogsflume will have the formula. Part of the brilliance of Ms. Lance’s deduction is that with our technology, he can synthesize the plant extracts far more reliably. Finally, I suspect we won’t have long, but I defer to Ms. Lance as to the best time to return.” He bowed magnanimously, as if he’d done her some kind of favor. Sara scowled.

“Just a few hours,” she said. “He’ll bring it down to the wire, and is probably too arrogant to think we’d find him.” She took a deep breath. “So everyone, hold on to something, and get ready to think fast.”

The Legends quickly bounded into their usual seats as all the Greats save Mallory stood around with looks of confusion. Grinning, Sara hit the throttle.

The Greats heaved and babbled incomprehensibly for the first several minutes after arriving in 2189. Alexander collapsed to the floor.

“Satisfied?” asked Mallory.

Sara shrugged. “It will have to do.” Nonchalantly she stepped off the Waverider, forgetting for the moment that she was about to enter the most distant future known.

In truth, it was less different than she expected, while being at the same time unrecognizable from any future she or Hollywood ever predicted. Gorgeous skyscrapers rose through the air by the hundreds, all higher than any Sara had ever seen and connected to each other via dozens of clear walkways thrumming with traffic. The streets were equally crowded but not a single individual car to be seen. Instead, hundreds of subway cars wove in and around each other in a dance so complex Sara knew a computer must be behind the organization. The sidewalks, three times as wide as usual, supported the remainder of the bursting population that traversed on foot.

Mallory smiled, a surprisingly sincere smile for once. “London,” he said, with the satisfaction of a man arriving home after weeks on the road.

“If you like it so much, why did you destroy it?” asked Sara.

Mallory gazed at the ever-shifting human vista. “You’ll see,” he said. “We – and I mean you, the past – made a lot of mistakes that held us back from our true potential.”

Sara rolled her eyes and continued her descent. As she entered the city, smaller details came into focus. Posters of suspected terrorists dominated the exteriors of subways and buildings. More than half the population wore thin surgical masks over their faces; and a shocking number bore scars and damage that suggested life in a warzone more than an urbane city. Even without empathic ability, the aura of fear was palpable. What appeared to be a productive populace from a distance was actually a paranoid, isolated group of individuals, crowded by the millions onto a few square miles. No one spoke, at least not to each other. The occasional person would mutter under their breath into the same contraption Mallory wore; a metal wire that hooked into the back of the ears and tucked around the head. A few people appended glasses, eyes scanning the clear lens without regard to their surroundings.

“Great,” said Sara under her breath. It was doubly obvious why Hogsflume would choose this time. Not only could he disappear into the millions of people with the advantage that none of the Legends would know their way around, Sara suspected more was happening in these final hours that Mallory’s shenanigans. Sara swallowed her pride and turned to Mallory.

“We need to know exactly what happens today.”

“It’s not pretty,” remarked Mallory. Sara glared.

“Fine,” he said. “But this is what he wanted, to split the party.” Mallory sighed and pointed. “There, at the central subway exchange. A series of bombs will detonate.”

“We can handle a bomb,” said Ray.

“Series,” Mallory emphasized. “Too many to recover. Emergency services had just arrived when the next ones go off.”

He pointed in the opposite direction. “Concert in the plaza, poison gas.” Turned and pointed where the group faced away. “Building collapse.”

“Connected?” asked Sara.

“No way to know,” said Mallory. “Unfortunately, while three in one day is high, for this time, calamity is the norm.”

“Christ,” muttered Mick. “I’d have nuked it too.”

“See?” said Mallory.

“If you’ve convinced Mick you need to reconsider your position,” responded Sara. “Alright, Dr. Gao and Amaya to the plaza. Try and contain the gas, or at least get people clear. Da Vinci and Ray – I think you take the building, you’ll be able to figure something out. Alexander and Firestorm, and Jack and Mick handle the bombs.”

“Why me?” asked Mick sourly.

“Because you’re fearless,” said Sara.

Mick grunted. “That is true.”

“Everyone else is tracking down Hogsflume. Let’s move. We have four hours until this world blows.”

“It blows already,” muttered Rathe. Sara snorted as Mallory glared.

The six remaining team members strode into the terror-ridden city. Rathe shuddered and Sara placed a hand reassuringly on her back. Mallory moved confidently through the crowd, ignoring the other people. Sara tried to not stare at the people. How strange that they could differ so much simply by virtue of their experience in this world. People moved away nervously when they saw her staring. Embarrassed Sara looked at the ground but quickly bumped into someone who scuttled away when she tried to apologize.

“They’re all virtually connected,” explained Mallory in response to her unspoken question. “There is little need for actual connection.”

“Don’t you miss it?”

Mallory shrugged. “It’s an antiquated need. Something only the weak indulge in. All the rest of us need is right here.” He tapped his halo.

Sara frowned as a thought occurred to her. “I’ve never seen Von Hogsflume wear that.”

Mallory’s face twitched quickly before resetting into his standard neutral expression. “No,” he said simply.

“Why not?” pressed Sara.

“He wasn’t a fan,” said Mallory with reluctance. “Said it blinded us to our world.”

“And you came to believe him,” said Sara.

Mallory shrugged. “There is a lot people are willing to forget when you give them the means to do so.”

Sara’s eyes slid past the dozens of drab figures hunched against the sides of buildings, some with signs announcing “veteran,” but most simply prone, the lucky ones clutching a bottle.

Mallory turned sharply into one of the shorter buildings, the worn carpet betraying the building’s age.

“Jacob’s flat,” Mallory explained. The elevator rocketed upwards to the top level. Mirrored doors slid open, revealing a floor much nicer than the entry space. Mallory fished under the welcome mat for a card, scanning it beside the door. Efficiently he punched in a verification code and the door slide open.

“Welcome Kieran,” said a pleasant mechanical voice. “Jacob is out. How may I assist you?”

Mallory cursed under his breath.

“Thanks Sasha,” he said, stepping to the side and flipping a switch. The low hum beneath the voice faded instantly. Mallory began rifling through the console by the door.

“He left recently, but no note as to where.”

“Alright, well he needs a lab,” suggested Sara. “Wouldn’t he go to his?”

“No,” said Mallory thoughtfully. “The government actively monitored his lab and he knew that. It’s why he built a lab here. But I do know one place he might have gone.” Mallory grimaced. “Jacob never could resist a dash of poetry. Symmetry in this case.”

Sara opened her mouth to respond but the future Dr. Heywood beat her to it.

“The London nuclear center,” Henry Heywood concluded, satisfied smirk on his face. “Figures the Brits would be behind the end of the world. Never did get over the loss of the Americas.”

“…although intercontinental empires never last,” the two Heywoods finished in tandem. They glanced at each other in surprise. Nate grinned as Henry scrunched his nose in irritation. 

“Ah, don’t be sore kiddo,” said Nate, slapping Henry on the back. “That’s what great-great-grandfathers are for!”

“That’s two too many greats,” muttered Henry.

“One for you and one for me,” said Nate. “It seemed fair.”

Henry glanced almost shyly at his ancestor. “Could you really turn to steel?” he asked. “Cause I figure that’s just legend…”

Nate clapped his hands. “Oh man! I can’t believe I haven’t shown you!” Nate clenched and his skin turned a smooth metallic. He moved through a few poses to demonstrate the effect.

“Come on, let’s move,” said Sara to Mallory.

“What about them?”

“They’ll keep up,” Sara assured him.

The nuclear center rested near the center of town, surrounded by bustling shops and lower-income housing units.

“This doesn’t seem safe,” Sara remarked.

“We’ve come a long way since your primitive technologies,” said Mallory. “Plus it powers the city. Proximity was important. There are some trade-offs.”

“Like cancer?” said Nate.

“Curable,” said Mallory.

“No shit!”

Mallory nodded. “I meant the possible danger if someone were to destabilize the core,” he clarified.

Mallory crouched, placing his eye level with a scanner near the imposing entrance. The door slid open revealing a dim interior and blasting the group with chilled air.

“We need to move quickly,” he said, glancing at his watch. “And at least a few of you should stand guard. Sound an alert if anyone enters.”

“Got a hot date?” asked Sara. “We still have two hours on the clock.”

“That’s not the point. Just, hurry.”

The Heywoods remained outside as the rest of them entered the dim refrigerator, hustling down the cramped corridor. Mallory led the way, weaving through the hallways that circled the core and effortlessly identifying the hidden cut-throughs to the more interior zones.

Sara followed, nearly tripping over him as they entered the core room at the very center of the frigid building. It glowed with a white-hot intensity. The room was both too hot and too cold between the sun at its center and icy blasting air. Work benches lined the outer wall of this room, empty save for the one spot where Von Hogsflume carefully extracted liquids from the crushed Atlantean plants.

Von Hogsflume set his tools down carefully.

“I assumed you would find me,” he said to Mallory. “Care to speed this up? I’m just about ready to go on my end so I only ask for another five minutes.”

“Hand it over Jacob,” said Mallory in a voice devoid of feeling. “It’s been decided.”

“And what would you do with it?” he asked.

Mallory turned towards Sara, eyebrows high before returning his gaze to Von Hogsflume. “I’ve agreed anything is better than you endlessly wandering through history. I shall have a chance to make my pitch.”

Von Hogsflume appeared stunned. “No, you wouldn’t choose her over me,” he said. “You care more than that.”

“I don’t,” said Mallory.

“It’s madness!” cried Von Hogsflume. “You’re all fools! Don’t you know what happens? It will destroy you.” He looked around at the four beings assembled.

“Each and every one of you. You’re taking the risk that things can ever be the same, that your parents and grandparents will exist and make the same mistakes they made to create you in the first place.”

“Time is intractable,” said Mallory. “You know this.”

“No one knows for sure,” argued Von Hogsflume. “This lot have screwed up history plenty to suggest otherwise!”

Mallory shook his head. “It will never happen Jacob. No matter how many times you repeat the past.”

“Only one way to find out,” responded Von Hogsflume darkly. His eye caught Sara as she glanced at Rathe.

“And what about you?” asked Von Hogsflume, suddenly turning to Sara.

“Excuse me?”

Von Hogsflume glanced meaningfully towards the half-alien. “She doesn’t belong in this world,” said Von Hogsflume. “I did some research after our last encounter regarding the rest of your crew. I could find histories on each and every one of them, but on her…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Sara felt her fist clench. “What does that have to do with anything? You’re stalling.”

“I’m warning you,” he corrected. “The cost of thwarting me is high. Your lover vanishes with this world. And the worst part is…” He moved in closer, whispering loudly. “You won’t even remember. How does that feel? Are you going to trap her in some interdimensional space for an eternity? All for what? I promise you this. I’ll make sure you remember.”

Time slowed as Von Hogsflume spun, grabbing the delicate glass vial of liquid and holding it high as if to smash it against the concrete floor. Rasputin lunged forward.

“Stop!” cried Sara, but too late as the stream of light shot forth. The Russian mystic, having dodged death a dozen times in his own life, froze, eyes growing wide and white with panic. He collapsed to the ground, the laser that struck his heart having never made a sound, and leaving no mark except the slight scorching on the front of his shirt. Sara almost felt bad watching him die yet again, this time in service to something other than himself.

Mallory threw up his hands in frustration.

“Swell Jacob!” he yelled. “Another great historical figure dead? Is this what you want?”

“He was already dead.”

“Not the point!”

“I think it’s exactly the point.” Von Hogsflume glanced towards the double doors. “I also think you ought to get moving. Wouldn’t want to create a second paradox.”

“What does he mean?’ asked Sara, looking to Mallory. Mallory’s face remained stony.

“You’re an ass,” he said slowly. “I’ll always figure that out.”

“Maybe not this time,” said Von Hogsflume. “I’ll get it right eventually.”

The double doors swung open widely and Mallory dove for cover. Sara and Rathe turned to the angry figure that entered, jaws dropping.

Kieran Mallory strode forward without noticing them. He punched aggressively at the buttons in the console as if imagining the faces of his enemies. Anger flooded from his skin boiling red and snapping like fire ants, the buzzing of a disturbed beehive clouded his senses but only for a moment…

The original Kieran Mallory turned slowly.

“Who are you?” he asked darkly. “Jacob,” he added in a more neutral tone. “I sent you away.”

“Carry on,” said Von Hogsflume. “I’ll be finished shortly. As for these two, I have no idea where they came from.”

The darkness wafted off Mallory thick as fog. Rathe pressed her psyche into the cloud. Mallory’s face flickered visibly with surprise as a sudden calmness descended, his anger that he thought would never vanish at least significantly depleted.

“Get the vial,” whispered Rathe. Sara sprinted immediately to Von Hogsflume, leaping over his back to snag the potion of timelessness from his hand. Behind her Rathe screamed and the warm nuclear core surged, a wave of heat and light temporarily blinding the occupants of the room. Von Hogsflume stopped struggling as he fell to the floor, glancing to the center of the room in fear. The temporally correct Mallory had vanished, the vaguest outline of a disintegrating figure inside the core. The other Mallory stood in the console box instead, rapidly entering codes into the console.

“He’s going to blow it,” said Von Hogsflume, fear quaking his voice.

“Yeah, we already knew that,” said Sara.

Von Hogsflume shook his head. “It’s too soon,” he whispered. “Too soon.”

Mallory spotted Sara holding the vial and proceeded her way, shoving Rathe to the wall. His step betrayed no hesitation and a sense of urgency. _Shit_.

Sara hit her comm.

“Everyone out now! Right now!!”

Roughly Mallory grabbed her but Sara twisted free, running for Rathe. Mallory chased, his heavy breath loud even against the pounding blood in Sara’s ears. She dove as Rathe reached and their hands touched, filled with icy orange and green fear, burnt popcorn, falling off a precise, the drop into a pitch black, bottomless chasm, the unexpected and relieving catch of a harness, knowing all was not lost.

Mallory snagged Sara’s shirt as the core hit critical. The low hum of the generators turned to a high whine. The room faded from sight as sirens all across the city began their cry and the world of 2189 London turned bright white, and disappeared forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: As Long As I've Got You by Ki


	16. God Complex

Mallory, Sara, and Rathe tumbled to the floor of the Waverider, the flare of the nuclear reaction blinding their return to the time ship.

“Did you get it?” asked Mallory, stumbling to his feet. “If you let that girlfriend of yours get in the way of this…”

Sara got to her feet, brushing the dust from the nuclear center floor off her pants as the colors and edges of the room slowly returned to normal.

“I can’t believe you would have willingly killed every member of my team and yours for this stupid…thing!” she yelled, waving the vial. Rathe touched her, a reminder of the delicate nature of the glass she held.

Mallory bounded over, jealous look in his eye. “We had to act fast, before Von Hogsflume could get out.”

Sara glared.

Six more people tumbled through the landing pad as Sara and Mallory moved out of the way. Another flash as Alexander and Firestorm appeared, looking shaken, then a final surge as Jack and Mick fell to the pad, skin red and bursting with radiation burns. Jack choked through the blood.

“Get them to medical!” Sara yelled. The healthy members of the team propped them up, moving their badly disfigured forms as gently as possible from the bridge.

“What’s the big deal?” Mallory said. “Even if they die, we’re all coming back under a reset. Regardless of whether I’m directing it or you’re setting off a random one.”

“Don’t believe for a second that I’d let this near you,” said Sara. “Not after that stunt.”

“You promised me an opportunity to make my case,” said Mallory. “Everyone made it, save Rasputin. I say we send them home and you and I finish the deal we brokered.”

Sara took a deep breath. Miraculously it seemed every team had responded quickly and mostly avoided the nuclear blast, save Mick and Jack. But Mallory was right. They had the formula. Assuming they went through with the plan, this time loop would be erased. Snipped from existence like a loose thread.

“Fine,” said Sara. “But not until I’ve made sure everyone is alright and gotten the chance to debrief with them.”

She stormed off in the direction of the medbay.

Mallory gave a half-laugh to himself, glancing at the disheveled Rathe. His dislike of Rathe tended towards ambivalence more than anything. It evaporated the further they moved from the moment where Sara’s choice to go back nearly cost them everything. Mallory’s prickly irritation, itching like sunburn turned towards practical matters. Rathe soaked in his aura curiously, taking care to keep her face turned away. This enigma of a future politician / world ender had clearly never been subject to psychic forces for he did not even try to shield his mind. That, or he was arrogant enough to believe it unnecessary.

Slowly Rathe probed against the calculating energy, already thinking to his next several moves. Rathe tasted blood, felt the pulsing of an animal, lying in wait for its prey. Only the very slightest breeze disturbed his confidence. He glanced at Rathe again. Rathe stared back.

Her. In his eyes she’d nearly ruined everything in 2189 by simply being there. Rathe smiled, slowly leaning back her head and opening into a full-throated laugh. The few lingering Legends and Greats looked at her strangely. Rathe shook her head with satisfaction.

“I’m just glad to be alive,” she told the room, eyes firmly fix on Mallory.

*

With Gideon’s help, Jack and Mick were patched up and on the way to recovery within a couple hours. One by one, Sara sat down with members of her crew, until it seemed no detail remained from their last mission. They deposited the Greats first, Sara hoping to spend a little more time with the Legends before saying good-bye. With each departure, the tone grew a little more somber. By the time they delivered Alexander, the Legends were sniffing conspicuously while Mallory rolled his eyes.

Sara turned to the assembled Legends as the Waverider door closed on ancient Greece. Everyone stared past each other with watery eyes.

“Well,” said Sara, choking up in spite of her promise to herself to not cry. “We had a good run.”

Ray sniffed loudly, wiping at his eyes. “So much dust in the air,” he said softly.

Sara’s eyes filled with hot tears that blurred her vision. She blinked several times, fighting the urge to wipe them away. She drew a shaky breath.

“It’s been an honor to work with you. All of you.” She laughed a little as she was forced to wipe her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” she said. “I’ll be seeing all of you again I’m sure.”

“That’s right,” said Nate firmly, Adam’s apple bobbing ferociously. “Next lifetime.”

Sara nodded and for some reason stuck out a hand. The Legends placed their hands on top of each other until the center was a tower of fists and they crowded in close, shoulder to shoulder.

“I love you guys,” said Sara. “You’re Legends.”

“No,” corrected Ray, “ _we’re_ Legends.”

He grinned and as if by prior agreement the team threw their hands in the air together with a cheer.

Sara wiped her eyes quickly.

“Alright! Off to Central City and then Star City. Everyone strap in!”

The Legends bolted to the bridge as Sara sauntered behind them with a smile.

“I assume this means you intend to finish it alone?”

Sara turned, noting with surprise that Rathe had lingered behind.

“Heavy is the head,” said Sara.

“Right,” said Rathe stepping forward. “Except if you’d read Voynich to the end you’d know that was a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Because the reset will obliterate the operator,” said Rathe. “That’s why it has to be me.”

“Are you kidding?” said Sara. “After all I’ve done to save your hide these past several months I’m not letting you throw it away.”

“You have to,” said Rathe. “I don’t belong her. Chances are good I disappear with the reset anyway. And if I don’t…” She shrugged. “Well that’s another paradox you’ll need to correct. The point is, I’m not long for this world.” She smiled wryly.

“Absolutely not,” said Sara, stepping around her.

“At the very least let me come with you.” Rathe’s voice turned from demanding to pleading.

“Please,” she said. “I have nowhere else to go. Not in 2017, not in Star City or National City… The Waverider is the only home I’ve known on this earth.”

Sara’s heart filled with warmth. _She thinks of the Waverider as home_. Mentally she smacked herself. All these good-byes were making her sentimental. Mallory rounded the corner, probably wondering why they weren’t on the move yet.

“Fine,” she said.

“No,” said Mallory. Sara turned in surprise. How long had he been listening?

“This is about you and me,” he said. “We finish this.”

Sara felt her resolve hardening. “What did you say?”

The edge to her voice seemed to cut like a jagged knife. Mallory winced.

“More people are just a distraction,” he amended. “Maybe she can wait on the ship instead.”

Sara cocked her head. Rathe had only asked to stay with Sara, but Mallory seemed concerned about Rathe’s input elsewhere.

“Afraid of something Kieran?” asked Sara. She felt more than saw Rathe’s accompanying smirk. Rathe sensed it too. He was afraid of her. Or them.

“I think she should come,” said Sara. “This is an important decision for the world. Three heads are better than two.”

Mallory appeared to consider his options. He closed his eyes briefly, conceding with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s settled then,” said Sara.

*

Rathe roamed the empty ship uneasily. Her and Mallory were the only two that had not disembarked in Star City. Sara swore she’d be back soon, after catching up briefly with her father. Rathe wasn’t about to prevent that reunion simply because Mallory gave her the creeps. Ideally, she would have ridden out the wait in her room, but she also didn’t trust Mallory with free reign. So instead Rathe roamed, checking in on bridge, the library, medbay, kitchen, and other assorted spaces to ensure she always knew where Mallory was; and that he knew she was watching.

There was a gap in his aura Rathe found deeply disconcerting. A hole where something should be that remained empty, as if it were incapable of being filled. The void imparted a sense of dread. This man seemed somehow to be less than human, to have rejected the emotional core that made most people such fascinating studies in contradiction. It made him dangerous in a way his boring demeanor hid very, very well.

“Ms. Adler?”

Gideon’s sudden voice in the silence made Rathe jump.

“Pardon the interruption, but I thought you might like to know that Captain Lance has returned.”

Rathe breathed heavily over her pounding heart.

“Thank you, Gideon.” She trotted towards the entrance bay, unable to suppress a grin as Sara’s figure came into view. The thin, athletic form that somehow always carried a frazzled air never ceased to amaze her. She was impulsive and headstrong, so unlike the rationale Alex, yet Rathe couldn’t deny the tugging she felt towards her. Sara mirrored the grin as she saw Rathe, freckles spreading across her cheeks.

“Keep Mallory out of trouble?” Sara asked.

“I did my best.”

“I’m sure that’s good enough,” said Sara, casually slinging an arm over Rathe’s shoulder.

“Oh good, you’re back,” said Mallory, barely glancing up from his console as they entered the library. He finished typing and snapped the small unit shut.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Alas, I am a woman of my word,” said Sara, as they moved onto the bridge. “Where to? Or when to?”

“It’s best if I enter the coordinates,” he responded. “Top secret, classified, ectara, ectara… You get it.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed.

“If I wanted to kill you, do you really think I’d do it with myself on board?”

Definitely not, thought Rathe. She touched Sara’s elbow gently.

“Be my guest,” said Sara, sweeping her arm dramatically.

Mallory stepped forward, positioning his body to block their view of the screen. The Waverider vibrated.

“Preparing for jump,” announced Gideon. “In three, two…” Sara and Rathe lunged for seats, Sara managing to strap fully in while Rathe settled for clinging to the unhooked strap.

The jump ended before it even seemed they had gone anywhere. Mallory stood from the pilot’s seat and waved them on. The ramp descended from the time ship into what appeared to be a large warehouse, albeit an unused and exceptionally clean one. The grey concrete was spotless, not a speck of dust or stain to be seen. Mallory walked confidently towards the darkened wall along the back. He waved his arms and a series of lights illuminated the space, revealing it to be at least twice as large as it originally appeared. In the formerly dark half of the warehouse a number of processing units filled the space, their red and blue lights shielded by dark cloth that seemed to serve a protective function. With a flourish, Mallory began to remove the covering.

“Are you familiar with the concept of game theory?” asked Mallory, as he tugged against the dark fabric.

“Yes,” said Rathe.

“No,” responded Sara.

“How about predictive sociology?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

The corner of Mallory’s lip twitched. Sara could see him wondering how long this could go on. Fortunately, he seemed to decide his current line of questioning was failing to properly engage his target audience.

“Let’s just skip to the fun part,” he suggested.

With the processors now uncovered he moved a throttle forward. The wall behind the processors lit up like a screen, dark pixels glowing with a single blinking cursor. Mallory hit a few keys and the cursor vanished. The screen zoomed out, revealing a map of earth that rotated to show each landmass. Millions, maybe billions of points bloomed across the continents, connecting to each other, moving and disappearing, dividing, the whole image spinning in an endless cycle.

“What is this?” asked Sara.

“This is GOD,” said Mallory, with a touch of reverence. “If there ever were one. I couldn’t resist the pun. It’s the Generational Opportunity Diviner.” He extended a delicate finger towards the screen.

“Each and every one of those dots represents a life. A life connected to thousands of others, each choice of which has the power to inextricably alter the course of human history.” He chuckled. “Or so most people think.” Mallory snapped.

“Restart simulation,” he said loudly. “Essentials only.” Instantly almost all of the dots and lines vanished. In its place four remained, dots very slowly growing as the years passed until there were about a dozen before the simulator repeated, pausing just slightly on the year 2189 before jumping thousands of years before people began to keep track of time.

“And these are also people I presume,” said Sara.

“Not just any people,” Mallory corrected. “These are the people that matter. The ones whose existence actually impacts the course of human existence. You’d be amazed at the feats, discoveries, accomplishments that if one person had not done it, another would just as quickly fill their place. It turns out that throughout history, there a very small number of truly exceptional individuals that cannot be replaced. Those special people, they are the ones that are truly essential to human history.”

The screen paused. A small red dot blinked over Star City. The corner of the screen indicated the year paused on 2016.

“You are one of those people,” said Mallory. “You and me. I thought, given the stories I’d heard, that the best course of action was to eliminate you. But, now I believe we can work together to make the future, the past, a better place.”

Sara shook her head. “I am so confused. So this machine lets you predict the future?”

“It’s not quite that simple, but in a sense, yes. I can change certain parameters, assume influence at critical junctures and redirect the flow of history using the essential persons identified by GOD.” He eyed her with interest.

“And I suspect you want to know what that means,” he added. “For you.”

“For a start. And you’ll have to do better than this thing,” she added waving her hand at the impressive but incomprehensible flow of dots and lines across the globe.

“Naturally,” said Mallory. “GOD takes some time to get used to. That’s why I’ve paired her with a simulator unit over here.”

He gestured to a reclining chair tucked into the corner, wires extending up from the floor and resting on the two side tables that adorned the chair. A much smaller monitor in the back blinked on an empty screen.

“The way it works is simple,” said Mallory. “Simply relax and the sensors will be connected to your scalp to read and respond to your brain activity. You’ll be awake the entire time, but in your head, much like a vivid dream. The simulation takes only seconds, so we can run hundreds if you like, and scarcely make a dent.”

He beamed proudly.

“Multiple simulations?” asked Sara. “I thought the whole idea was to control everything. Create a single ‘perfect’ future.”

“Unfortunately, human behavior is difficult to predict,” conceded Mallory. “This will adjust for the most statistically likely possibilities, the random fluctuations from non-essentials that create minor changes. Once a scenario is set, GOD can predict with 99.8% accuracy your response based upon your brain activity.”

“You’ve used this before?” asked Sara.

“Of course,” said Mallory. “It was an act of GOD that dictated the end of the world. That taught me I could change history, fix humanities past mistakes. That brought me to you.”

“Ugh,” said Sara. “Spare me. Fine, I’ll give it a go. Just one. I promised you one chance to convince me. I don’t have to do more.”

“Wait!” said Rathe. “How do we know this is safe?”

Mallory pointed to a smaller screen adjoining the reclining unit.

“We’ll be monitoring vitals the entire time.” He pointed to a blue button against the wall. “And if you panic, that’s the override button. It will turn the entire machine off. But I urge you to consider before hitting it. GOD takes such a long time to reboot.”

Sara turned to Rathe, eyebrows raised. _Good?_

Rathe nodded.

“Outstanding,” said Mallory, appearing genuinely pleased, even slightly giddy. “I of course have mapped out the ideal path for all non-essentials, save yourself, and shall run that model. If you wish to repeat and see another statistical variation you shall be able to. Or you may end it after one.”

“I said one,” said Sara.

“You may feel differently after experiencing it,” responded Mallory smoothly, as she laid against the cushioned headrest.

Power surged and Sara’s entire body seized, muscles tensing involuntarily but without pain. Light filled her vision and the grey warehouse vanished.

*

“Happy Thanksgiving,” said Detective Lance. Voices echoed the sentiment, glasses clinking gently. The liquid in Sara’s glass bubbled enticingly. She sipped. Sparkling grape juice. Around the table sat Sara’s mother, father, Laurel, Oliver, and her; with a random spread of take-out Chinese. Laurel and Oliver sat close, heads together. On Laurel’s left hand glinted a large diamond.

“Laurel, you’re engaged!” said Sara with excitement.

Laurel looked at her strangely. “Yeah silly, for three months now. Just because you’re all busy getting your Masters doesn’t mean you can just forget these things when you come back home.”

“I’m what?!?” asked Sara, dropping her fork. “What on earth am I studying?!?”

Now it was her father’s turn to give her a concerned look. “Archeology,” he reminded her. “It was kind of a big deal. You did a complete 180 on your Bachelor’s after Oliver and your sister were rescued from that horrible island.”

“Lian Yu, dad,” said Laurel. “And we were only there for like, a week, before the recuse planes found us.”

“Whatever. You wanted to know all about it, learn everything you could about the stories these two told,” he said jabbing with his fork at Laurel and Oliver. “Though truthfully I often wonder if they made it all up to impress you.”

“Oh dad!”

“Mr. Lance…”

Detective Lance held up his hands. “I kid, I kid.”

He caught Sara’s eye as the lovebirds resumed their conversation, mouth _made it up_. In spite of herself Sara giggled. This was nice. She sipped the bubbly beverage again, rolling it around to feel tingles up and down her tongue. A life where her family stayed together, where she never screwed things up with Laurel would be nice. But how was she important, “essential” in Mallory’s vernacular, in this world?

_Your work as a field archeologist leads you to League of Assassins_ , a voice said. She looked around. No one else seemed to have heard the voice.

_With the League, you fulfill a role protecting the world in the shadows, eventually rising to Ra’s_.

“Holy shit,” said Sara, coughing on the last bit of sparkling juice. The table stopped its chatter and glanced at her.

“Everything alright honey?” asked Detective Lance, forehead creasing with worry.

“Yeah,” said Sara, pushing away from the table. “I just need some air…”

She walked quickly from the warm table, eyes fixed on the door. The entryway rug swirled in her vision.

“No…I want to stay longer…” Sara squeezed her eyes tight. Implicitly she knew if she opened her eyes it would end, she would be back in the warehouse, would leave with the formula and initiate the reset. But Mallory was right… There was so much she didn’t know.

After a moment of darkness, a new vision began. More familiar this time, the flame-lit chambers of the League. Sara twisted and moved easily, blocking her attacker’s attempts to make contact.

Ra’s al Ghul stepped forward from the shadows, holding up a single hand. Her attacker paused respectfully and Sara executed a clean kick to his throat. He fell to the ground gasping. Sara straightened and bowed to the Ra’s.

“You didn’t stop,” he noted, the barest hint of smile.

“The threat hadn’t been eliminated,” Sara replied.

“You’ve learned well.” Ra’s extended his raised hand toward her. “Walk with me.”

Torches flickered in the stone hallway, casting shadows Sara had long since learned to discern as a trick of light or threat.

“You are ready,” said Ra’s as he walked deliberately down the dim corridor.

“Sir?”

Ra’s escorted her into the main chamber of Nanda Parbat. Nyssa stood at attention with a simple unsheathed sword. Ra’s turned and handed Sara and identical sword.

“Two champions,” said Ra’s. “May the best one win.”

Nyssa’s beautiful eyes softened with sympathy, but only for an instant before she lunged with a roar, sword aloft. Sara parried the attack and the two circled each other warily. Metal flashed in the fire-lit room, the clang of steel the only sound as they silently attacked and retreated in turn. Sara’s arms burned with exhaustion but she refused to allow her energy to flag. Nyssa swung more and more desperately, her exhaustion also apparent. Finally, Ra’s al Ghul stepped in between the two, smiling.

“No more,” he said. “You have proven to be perfectly evenly matched in strength, skill, and cunning.” He glanced between the two women. “If you can rule in tandem, then I can retire, knowing I have left the League in the strongest hands yet.”

Sara’s sword clattered to the stone floor in surprise. Ra’s wanted them to lead together? Was this his idea of blessing their union?

He reached for their hands and placed them together, his own worn and calloused palm atop.

“The new Ra’s,” he announced solemnly.

“Ra’s!” repeated the onlookers, each taking a knee and bowing their head.

Nyssa touched Sara’s cheek and tugged her head in for a kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted slightly of lavender.

_This is all wrong_.

The League, and Ra’s al Ghul in particular, would never end such a battle in a draw. If anything, the fight would continue until both warriors dropped of exhaustion. And her relationship with Nyssa was never going to earn the approval of the strict Ra’s. Sara tasted her lips, shaking her head at the beautiful Nyssa, the woman who taught her it was ok to love another woman. She’d never tasted like lavender though. That feeling belonged to another.

“This isn’t real,” said Sara. “None of this is real. Show me the truth,” she yelled into the high ceiling.

Everything shimmered for a second, as if caught in a moment of indecision.

_I shall show you another_ , said the voice in her head.

“A real one,” insisted Sara. But the light had already overtaken her vision.

Sara blinked into the light streaming through the window. She laid on a mattress, wrapped up tightly in a thick comforter. The indent in the mattress to her right indicated she hadn’t slept alone. The air smelled of pancakes. Sara let her nose guide her to the kitchen. A familiar figure, short hair standing on end, still tussled from sleep hummed as she manned the stovetop, alternately flipping pancakes and sipping from an oversized cup of tea.

Rathe started as she noticed Sara, flipping the pancake a bit too zealously. Sara snagged the errant flapjack out of the air and took a bite. The inside squished with a bit of uncooked batter.

“Hey!” said Rathe, playfully smacking Sara’s hand. “That wasn’t done!”

“I like them undercooked,” said Sara with a grin.

“I know.” Rathe pointed to a plate stacked high. “Those are for you.”

“Oops,” said Sara, continuing to munch on the stolen pancake.

Rathe rolled her eyes and poured out more batter. Sara kissed her from behind on the cheek.

“Forgive me?” asked Sara.

“Always,” said Rathe, turning in her arms.

Sara nuzzled and kissed her. _Lavender and orange peel_. Perfect.

“Hey why are you making so many?” asked Sara, noticing the extra plate.

“Thea Queen is coming by,” said Rathe. “Remember? You wanted to discuss your proposal for redeveloping the Glades. Strategize how you’re going to convince City Council to pass it next week.”

“Thea Queen?”

“Yep,” said Rathe, brushing a strand of Sara’s hair from her face. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’m not jealous. I know she gets some comfort being around someone who understands what it was like to lose Oliver on that island.”

Sara’s head spun. So apparently she went on the trip with Oliver, only this time she came back instead of him.

Rathe watched her with concern. “I can cancel if you’d like,” Rathe offered. “She’d understand. We all had a long night.”

“Yeah with Felicity and Diggle and saving the city,” said Sara, going all in with her new theory.

“I don’t know who Diggle is, but yeah. Felicity helped out like she usually does.” Rathe pressed the back of her hand to Sara’s forehead. “Maybe some rest would be good,” she suggested. “It can’t be easy protecting the city every night as the Canary and then working for it every day as Mayor.”

“No,” agreed Sara.

Rathe stepped aside to quickly flip the browning pancake. It would be so easy to imagine this life. To imagine having taken different roads. But that alone made her suspicious.

“How are you here?” asked Sara. “I get what happened to me, how this is different. But how did you get to this earth?”

Rathe’s mouth opened. “I, well, I came from Supergirl’s earth,” Rathe said.

“But how,” pressed Sara. “See, I know that much. But how did you jump between earths? When did you arrive since I only know you from an eliminated time loop?”

Rathe backed into the oven, as if trying to get away from Sara.

“This isn’t real either,” said Sara. “I only know what you’ve told me, and you can’t explain any of the other gaps I have.”

Seized with a sudden thought she reached for the container of milk, reading from the side panel.

_Ingredients: Milk, qpalsk husknf, hudkn, sbytnhv, shguskn._

It was so obvious now that she knew what to look for. All those details, so often overlooked. That was the tell. Her imagination couldn’t fill in those details. And Mallory’s simulation didn’t know because it wasn’t predicting a future, it was only projecting a future, or futures, she wanted.

“We’re done,” said Sara.

The image shuddered but remained.

Rathe’s terrified expression turned to smiling and dark, temporarily taking on the form of Mallory.

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” he said. “If you want to give this up, you’ll have to destroy it. It’s the only way to know if you can go through with it. Those are my terms.”

Sara stared at Mallory as he shifted back into the delicate half-human.

“Please,” begged Rathe. “I’ll die. This is my only chance.” She swallowed hard as wet golden eyes peered deep into Sara’s soul.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Lifetimes by Oh Wonder


	17. Vanishing

“What’s happening?”

Mallory glared at the dark-eyed pixie Sara had insisted come along.

“It’s a simulator,” he said testily. “It’s simulating.”

“She’s stressed,” Rathe responded in an equally testy voice.

Mallory glanced at the reclined Legend. Her eyes moved rapidly behind her closed lids, but the face was relaxed and no other sign of tension existed. If someone had ever told him that the Golden Lance would be such a small, delicate-looking girl he would have recommended they go in for evaluation. He still wasn’t sure how this puny thing acquired the stunning reputation that had guided his work to outdo the Lance and rewrite history his way.

Rathe continued to stare, unblinking. This weird companion of Sara’s gave him a crawling feeling, as if she were not quite of this world.

“She looks fine to me,” he said. Hopefully Sara would wake up soon. Mallory had yet to meet anyone who wasn’t drawn in by the simulations. If it worked for the Greats, Sara Lance would be no exception.

The second hand ticked by. It had already been longer than he expected, but Mallory was patient. It was the damn tagalong that worried him. She kept fidgeting with Sara’s hands and face, and leaning down as if to check her breathing. Occasionally she glanced at the blue button on the wall.

Rathe leaned over again. “Sara,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Sara’s eye continued to move but Rathe felt her respond psychically as if awake.

“Sara, I love you,” Rathe said quietly. “Come back.”

*

Rathe sobbed on the floor of the kitchen. The pancake was beginning to burn. Sara turned off the heat, crouching down to the Rathe that felt so real, but that didn’t exist. Couldn’t exist. So who was she? A wave of compassion flooded her senses. Rathe was, and always would be a kind of strength that Sara admired. The kind Laurel had. Even this simulated version made her feel stronger. She couldn’t hurt her.

“Do you remember when we met?” asked Sara.

The half-alien sniffed. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t like you at all,” Sara said.

Rathe laughed through her tear-stained face. Sara turned and sat beside her, leaning her head into the Empathia’s shoulder. Grass tickled her skin, the smell of wet earth, pink sunset. There, but more distant and removed than it should be. An approximation as best her mind could create. She wondered if Mallory was watching, if he could see what she envisioned.

“I didn’t like how you made me feel,” said Sara. “I felt weak for the first time in a while. I realized I hadn’t dealt with a lot of things in the past. That the past never really leaves, even if you die, it’s all a part of you.”

Sara shook her head. Those sensations, so overwhelming when they touched, were endless reminders of the past. She’d buried her feelings, not realizing until Rathe how that buried her own history, and how that made her forget herself.

She lifted Rathe’s chin, gazing into her shining, golden eyes.

“You found me,” said Sara.

Rathe smiled, breathing steady now. “I always will.”

“I know,” said Sara. She kissed Rathe softly, on the lips and then the forehead. Sunlight poured through the window, the precarious tower of pancakes cast a low shadow across the breakfast bar. Rathe’s mug of tea released thin curls of steam.

She had to believe.

Without looking back, Sara ran forward towards the window. She didn’t look to see if they were ten or two floors off the ground, but crashed through the window, eyes shut tight, and plummeted.

*

“She’s not alright,” said Rathe. Sara’s psychic energy spun from orange to yellow, hints of rash purple mixed in, like being on a spinning carnival ride, catching sight of something unidentified every half second.

Mallory didn’t even try to hide his dislike, turning away rather than acknowledging the comment. Rathe strode over to the blue button.

“This brings it all done, huh?” asked Rathe.

Mallory chuckled. “Give it a shove if you’re so worried.”

The blue button shone enticingly. Never pushed.

No. He was too eager for her to try. Rathe grit her teeth. Sara had been through worse. She would make it out of whatever mental torment that machine constructed. Rathe would have to do her best to help from here. She thought of the glass vial locked away on the Waverider. As long as Rathe could keep an eye on Mallory, at least he would never have the satisfaction of obtaining the potion of timelessness.

*

Sunlight streamed through the window, temporarily blinding Sara. Pancakes, tea, Rathe humming in the background. It all felt very familiar.

 _Shit_.

Gingerly Sara stepped out of bed. The floor creaked and Rathe turned.

“Morning sweetie,” Rathe said, bounding down the hall.

“Morning,” responded Sara. She scratched at her head. Freaking riddles. The worst. She took in the pleasant room, kitchen visible through the open door.

“You alright?” asked Rathe.

“Yeah, fine, just, um, a weird dream. I can’t figure it out.”

“Ooo, a dream,” said Rathe, taking a seat beside Sara on the bed.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to help with this one,” said Sara with a laugh.

“Why not? I’m great at this stuff.”

“But I’m n– ” Sara stopped herself. “But I’m not awake yet,” Sara corrected.

“Don’t worry,” said Rathe placing a hand on Sara’s back. “I made you some of that nasty sludge.”

“It’s called coffee,” said Sara as Rathe returned to the kitchen. “Most people prefer it!”

Sara grabbed a hoodie hanging off the edge of the dresser and followed. She curled her body around the cup of coffee Rathe poured and sat at the breakfast bar, inhaling deeply. Rathe finished piling the stack of pancakes and turned off the heat, setting the counter up with silverware and bowls of fresh fruit.

“Tell me again how I ended up with someone as wonderful as you?” asked Sara.

Rathe smirked. “Just lucky I guess. Oh and that thing Cisco built.”

“Cisco?”

“Yeah. His interdimensional thingy.” Rathe sat beside Sara. “So this dream?”

“Mhm,” said Sara with a mouthful of pancake. “Right. Say you kept having a dream over and over. And it isn’t bad, per se, but…”

“You can’t break the loop,” finished Rathe.

“Exactly.”

“Well recurring dreams suggest unfinished business,” said Rathe in her lecturelike tone. “Something unresolved. A task never completed.” Rathe stroked Sara’s arm. “Ring a bell?”

“Yeah,” said Sara. “I don’t know how to save someone. I’ve thought through every option, and there’s nothing.”

“You’ll find a way,” said Rathe confidently. “You know lots of smart people. Including me.” She snagged Sara’s now-empty plate and smoothly moved to the opposite side of the bar to begin cleaning up.

“You’re right,” said Sara. She knew exactly who could help. She glanced at the window. Maybe in the next version she could reach them.

*

Rathe glared at Mallory as Sara twitched in her sleeplike state. He sauntered over casually.

“People always want to see more,” he said.  “She’ll wake up convinced.”

Ash flowed from his skin, hot and cold at the same time, dusty and stinking of choking death. Sara’s blood rushed hot and full of fury, blinding and strong as a flooded current. Whatever was happening, she was pissed and the time for waiting was over.

“I don’t think you’re understanding how this works,” replied Rathe, feeling her temper rise and allowing it to take over.

Mallory chuckled. “Is that so?”

Rathe’s strange eyes flashed in warning as a cold choking sensation washed through his body. Mallory’s aura shifted as he sized up this new information.

“It makes more sense now,” he said. “Lance couldn’t do it all on her own, could she?”

“No hero does,” said Rathe. “But it’s probably not me you should worry about. Not in whatever timeline you’re from anyway.”

“I see,” said Mallory, air of confidence fading just slightly. “You’re not of this world. I can change that you know. You can have your happy ending.”

“Bring her out of it,” said Rathe.

“I can’t,” said Mallory with a hint of smirk. “She has to accept the simulation. The program repeats until she does so.”

“And the simulation?”

Mallory shrugged. “Alternate versions of reality. But don’t worry. Hers was set to show only positive ones. Shouldn’t be long before she realizes it’s for the best. For the best for both of you,” he added coyly.

Rathe’s arm shot out, grabbing Mallory roughly by the collar and dragging him close to the chair.

“I…can’t…stop…it…” he gasped.

“Good,” growled Rathe.

Rathe’s free hand extended towards Sara. Rathe’s eyes seemed to glow like silver melting as energy seized her entire body, flowing from one being to the other. Silver waves crashed into Mallory’s ashen aura which collapsed into fear and remorse, green and stinking, the molded underside of an abandoned wreck. Through his fear Rathe saw their exterior, the desolate landscape beyond the grey concrete walls, the only walls still standing for thousands of miles. The permanently clouded sky, radioactive ashen rain that still fell, the hills in the distance, not actually hills but the fallen remains of a once great city home to millions.

“Let’s imagine a future all together, shall we?” hissed Rathe.

*

Sunlight. Empty spot on the bed. Pancakes.

Sara squeezed her eyes tight. _Just let go_. She could be so happy here. Power, respect, a loving girlfriend, not to mention the killer apartment. Hell, if Oliver could hack it at Mayor, Sara sure as shit could.

 _But it’s not real_.

It sure felt real. From the jersey sheets to the way the smell of food made her mouth water. Sara slung on the hoodie and headed to the kitchen. She froze.

Rathe hummed as she flipped a pancake, sipping from her tea. But the figure already sitting at the breakfast bar was new. He turned, looking as stunned to see Sara as she was to see him.

“Mallory?!?”

“Oh god,” he muttered, standing shakily. Sara advanced on him, casually smacking a baton into her opposite palm. He tried to move, but the shackles holding him in place refused to budge.

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Sara. “I hope you like pancakes.”

She shook her head as the shiny apartment seemed to fade into someplace smaller and darker. Rathe handed her a cup of coffee and the kitchen setting returned.

“So, are you here to threaten me or is a new scenario in which I get to kick your ass?” Sara brightened at the thought.

Mallory lunged for the butter knife and tried to press it into Sara’s skin. Sara easily deflected and knocked his head back with her elbow. She crouched over his prone body. Mallory sniffed through his bloodied nose and began to laugh.

“Is this the best you can do?” he asked. His gaze looked over Sara’s shoulder towards Rathe.

“Not even close,” said Rathe with dangerous softness.

The apartment vanished as the bright wood floor turned to dusty grey ground. White flakes of ash floated past through the smoke-filled air. Mallory coughed and red blotches formed on his face and hands.

“2194,” said Rathe, squinting into the smog. “Just outside the lab. I’d say your plan to take us to the warehouse five years after the world ended was ingenious, except, well…” She crouched down and whispered. “It’s not working out so well for you, now is it?”

Mallory coughed again, bits of blood dotting the edges of his collar.

“Nor for you,” he said, inclining his head to her own radiation burns.

Rathe smiled. “I’ll be ok,” she said. “I’d worry more about yourself. And them.” Through the thick ash fog, humanlike figures lumbered closer.

“Yeah,” Rathe added. “They aren’t _all_ dead, although not entirely human at this point either. But they do know it was you that caused this mess.”

Sara stared around the wasteland in confusion. Her own hands remained free of any effects of radiation.

“Hey Rathe...?” She reached, curls of smoke visible beneath her translucent arm.

“Rathe?!?” cried Sara, even as she knew no one could hear her and her form faded from sight.

Rathe handed Mallory a small pistol.

“One bullet,” said Rathe. “You can end it now, or it goes on and –”

The gunshot rang through Sara’s head loud and clear. Red spreading across Rathe’s chest, the sole color in a world of grey.

Sara sat up with a gasp, her heart staccato stepping before settling into a slightly elevated rate. Rathe curled around a pillow in the bed beside Sara. She shuddered and awoke with a heave.

“You died,” said Sara, squeezing her tight. “Or, I dreamed you’d died. It’s very confusing.” She never thought she’d be so glad to see this fake world again.

“So did you,” Rathe retorted. “Twice according to the official accounts. But I don’t hold it against you.”

Sara laughed. “I don’t think I started living until I met you,” she said. “Not really.” She pushed Rathe back so she could take in her face. “I don’t know if I can keep living without you.”

“You have to,” Rathe whispered.

Rathe’s golden eyes stared at her with intense earnestness that seemed to bleed from Rathe’s skin to Sara’s. This was no simulation.

“Rathe!” said Sara, hugging the warm, physical form. The sunny apartment disintegrated into the dim warehouse filled with the soft beeping of her heart monitor. Mallory laid on the floor immediately adjacent.

“Quick,” said Rathe. “Help me get him onto the chair. He’s too heavy for me to lift on my own and the illusion won’t last unless we get him plugged in.”

“Weakling,” teased Sara as she helped Rathe lift his dead weight into the chair. Rathe efficiently clipped the sensors to Mallory. Sara watched with eyebrows raised.

“What?” asked Rathe. “You were under for nearly five minutes. I used my time well.”

“So I see,” responded Sara. “How did you do it?”

“A simple swap in energy,” said Rathe as she changed a few settings on the simulation. “There. He can run his own version of the end of the world over and over. See how he likes it.”

Sara shook her head with a half-laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you figure it out,” said Rathe.

“I couldn’t,” said Sara. “I needed you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” said Rathe with a sad smile.

“No promises,” said Sara. She took a deep breath. “I just need give some final instructions to Gideon. Make sure the Waverider gets through. Then it’s time for us to finish this.”

*

The Waverider touched down a few seconds, maybe eons later. The black void of space surrounded them, the time stream visible on the distant horizon light green heat lightning. Sara palmed the glass vial of clear liquid, spinning in her seat to face Rathe. Her heart pounded with unexpected nervousness.

Rathe brought her stare up from the floor slowly, eyes pale and glassy. “We’re at the Vanishing Point?”

Sara nodded.

Rathe swallowed despite a dry mouth. “Someone has to stay and make sure it happens,” she said. “I’m the obvious choice.”

“How do you figure that?” asked Sara.

The half-human shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have a future here. Or a past for that matter. When this reset happens…I don’t exist.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sara said firmly.

“It was a choice I made, many months ago. Maybe for better, maybe for worse. But I have to live with it, however long that life may be.”

“Gideon?” asked Sara, “what will happen to the Vanishing Point?”

“Based upon my calculations, the Vanishing Point will be obliterated. It will cease to exist, just as Ms. Adler states.”

“Is there any way to stop it?”

“I’m afraid not Captain. There are some other possibilities, but this is an extreme measure, with a high degree of uncertainty.”

“I’m staying,” Sara said.

“What?” exclaimed Rathe.

“Why not?” said Sara defiantly. “With the restart I’ll still be born. I’ll live however I’m supposed to without all this stuff. But if I…” Her throat closed involuntary, cutting off the remaining words. She took a breath.

“I also need to live with the consequences of what I’ve done. I don’t want to forget how I screwed up time. Or how my sister died. How she lived. How a stupid fling changed my life forever.”

Sara’s heart slowed. “I don’t want to forget you.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now,” said Rathe.

Sara stood up straight. “I’m your Captain, and I expect what I say to go. I’m staying here to see the reset through. You are welcome to leave, or to stay.”

Rathe’s golden cat eyes stared at Sara so long that she felt as if they’d switched places and was seeing her own reflection, staring at Rathe.

“I’m in,” said Rathe quietly. “Captain.”

Sara nodded and the two Legends exited the Waverider. Sara began to step off the ramp and paused.

“Gideon? I just want to say… Thanks for everything. We could have never become Legends without you.”

“The honor is all mine, Captain,” said the AI. “Whatever happens, I know you and Ms. Adler are destined for great things. I’ve made all the arrangements you requested.”

Sara nodded in acknowledgement. “Thanks G.”

“Arrangements?” asked Rathe.

“Just in case,” said Sara. “Wouldn’t want Gideon lost to the future…past…whatever we’re creating.”

“Right.”

The empty point of operations seemed to echo with silence. By implicit agreement the two Legends headed to the very center of the Vanishing Point, the place where the time stream once originated when time was born. Sara moved the vial between her sweaty palms. She cleared her throat.

“I guess we just, um, pour it through?”

“Works for me,” said Rathe.

The absence of anything around seemed to swallow their words. They felt far away and muffled. Sara reached for Rathe’s hand.

“Hey,” said Sara. “You never told me what color eyes you see when you look in the mirror.”

Rathe looked away.

“Oh come on,” said Sara. “This moment literally gets eliminated from history.”

Rathe gave a half-laugh in acknowledgement. “It changes,” she said. “I see the people who have touched me. Made a difference in my life.”

“You know I have to ask…” said Sara. Rathe blushed, pink creeping up the back of her neck. Her fingertips brushed Sara’s wrist as she turned back.

Rathe’s eyes shifted from golden to silver, tinged with blue, gold seeping in with hints of green and purple and red, and colors of so many shades Sara was at a loss to name them. The colors blended, somehow all wholly present at the same time, an unending rainbow with a prominent glitter of gold and blue. Rathe’s skin shone with color and Sara smelled violets, fresh bread, tasted rosemary. Sara’s breath caught in her throat and she pulled Rathe in, kissing her with unfurled passion, willing herself to remember this, willing Rathe to remember her.

Rathe melted into Sara’s embrace, anger, frustration, bitterness all evaporating. She wanted to forget everything, how hard getting over Alex had been; how much it hurt to lose yet another chance at life, at happiness. And yet Sara wanted to remember, she drew strength from her pain. Her strength and energy for life overwhelmed Rathe, took hold and became a piece of her soul, the unbreakable Legend.

“You are amazing Sara Lance,” said Rathe quietly as she stroked her cheek.

“So are you Rathe Adler,” said Sara. Her gut twisted. This was only going to get harder the longer she waited. Sara took a breath, and in that instant, Rathe knew.

“No,” said Rathe.

Sara dodged away, uncorking the vial and tossing the liquid down her throat. It burned with the taste of distilled herbs and the barest hint of salt. Sara ran for the center point, leaping into the gap. Rathe grabbed her jacket, managing to hang on as they fell, tumbling into the void and clinging to each other.

“I love you,” Sara whispered. Rathe’s lips moved against Sara’s cheeks but she heard nothing.

*

“What?”

“Mmmhm?” Sara lifted her face from the console of the Waverider. Amaya looked at her questioningly.

“Were you talking in your sleep?” asked Amaya.

Sara scoffed. “No!”

“Right.” Amaya strolled away, making a show of glancing back over her shoulder to check on Sara.

“I’m fine,” mouthed Sara. She rubbed her temples. It was nice having Amaya back with the team.

“Nate, have you identified another anachronism? Ideally something that will piss off Agent Whats-her-face.”

“Sure thing Cap,” said Nate.

“Great.”

Bits and pieces of her dream floated on the edge of the periphery. That short-haired, rakishly good-looking woman had returned, Sara felt sure of it. She’d had a message Sara hadn’t quite heard, but the harder she tried to recall the more the dream slipped away. Sara stood with frustration, heading to the corridor to watch the time stream flow past. She couldn’t look too hard, but if she unfocused her eyes, let herself open…

The woman appeared again. Sara watched indirectly as she ran a hand idly through her hair, then extended her arm suddenly as though dancing. The time stream swirled around her, making space as she formed another image from the green and silver tendrils. Sara and Rathe laughed, pulling together for a kiss.

 _I found you_.

Sara heard the figure speak as though it was her dancing in the time stream with the dream.

 _I made it. I just wanted you to know_.

Sara released her breath, suddenly realizing she’d been holding it. She made it. It all worked, just as Gideon had promised her. Tears sprung to her eyes as the memory returned.

“Rathe,” Sara whispered. Her name was Rathe. She came from Supergirl’s universe. Sara smiled at the memory of their first meeting. She hadn’t liked the alien, correction, _half_ -alien at all. But she had a feeling it would change. That a lot might change as her memory of the time loop returned…

“Hey!” Nate came trotting over. “There you are! We’ve got a tip. May have something to do with Mallus.”

“Right,” said Sara. “Be right there.”

 _Mallus_. Now why did that sound familiar?

The dancing figure in the time stream waved. _Thank you. For saving my life_.

“Thank you,” said Sara. “For saving mine.” The dancing figure vanished in the swirls of the time stream. Sara straightened her posture and prepared her most authoritative strut.

“Alright team!” said Sara as she strode onto the bridge. “We screwed up time, now let’s go show the Time Bureau we know how to fix it!”

 

EPILOGUE

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Rathe wandered through the dark nondescript landscape. The last thing she remembered was…

“Sara?”

No response.

Rathe turned sharply, heart racing. She’d been here before, at least a hundred times, searching for something. She never knew exactly what, only that once found she would recognize it.

The blackness coalesced, slowly taking on form and shape. Rathe blinked, extending a hand towards the pale figure. She made contact, fingers brushing against warm flesh.

“We’ve got movement!” yelled a voice. “She’s awake!”

The absolute dark transformed into harsh light, blinding Rathe. She thrust a hand between the light source and her eyes, knocking into the figure.

“Where am I?” asked Rathe, sitting up quickly. Dark forms moved all around her in a flurry of action. Everything blurred in the light that glared off the white tiled wall, white bedsheets, and white linen gown that covered her front. A high-pitched mechanical whine hurt her ears.

“Who are you people?”

“Restraints!” Hands pulled her back, snapping her wrists in place against the handrails of the cot. Rathe struggled, lifting her body as far off the thin mattress as she could. A needle pinched her shoulder and she fought the drowsiness that somehow only amplified her rising panic. The all-white room dimmed and faded as the drug took hold.

“Poor thing,” said a voice from far away. “The world must seem scary after all those years in a coma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songspiration: Dark Star by Jaymes Young 
> 
> And…that’s it! At least for Legends. I hope you enjoyed! For Part 3 with Rathe I’m going completely off-road into original works territory. Follow the series or search for Earth 99 if you dare and if not, thanks for reading Across Time!


End file.
